


Burn a Path

by serenityfails



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Canon Dialogue, Elf/Human Relationship(s), Elven Identity Politics, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Mid-Canon, Pride and Prejudice and Shemlen, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2020-09-07 18:22:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 49,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20313952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenityfails/pseuds/serenityfails
Summary: Exiled and clanless, Velanna's last chance to save her sister is a band of Grey Wardens led by a flat-ear. On top of that, a human keeps trying to earn her friendship for reasons she can't fathom. The Grey Wardens are triumphant heroes after recently ending the Blight, so perhaps he isn't a danger like the others of his kind, but there's something off about him...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Every ship gets to have at least one multi-chapter retelling of canon that veers wildly off the rails, and god damn it, this one's mine. I've been waving a big old flag for this little ship since 2011 and years later it seems like I'm gonna be waving this flag forever, and I'm very happy to do so.  
Events in the fic will be based on what I consider my personal canon playthrough, and will incorporate aspects of canon events, dialogue, and in-world writing, with some gaps filled in and some concepts expanded on. Tags and rating may be updated as needed, or warnings on specifics outlined in the chapter notes.  
Mega huge thanks to my dear friend [electricshoebox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/electricshoebox) for all her help wrangling this thing.  
I make the stuff I make for me, but I'm always really happy when other people dig it too, so thank you for checking this out and giving it a shot. I hope you enjoy it!!

_Swiftly do stars burn a path across the sky,_  
_Hast'ning to place one last kiss upon your eye._  
_Tenderly land enfolds you in slumber,_  
_Softening the rolling thunder._  
_Dagger now sheathed, bow no longer tense._  
_During this, your last hour, only silence._

_ __ _

The rites had been read, and the fires still burned at the head of each grave she had made for her friends, though whether it was by divine blessing or by the strength of her magic alone, Velanna could not say. The Creators were sealed away, and so too was Seranni now torn from her, by treachery and deceit.

_ __ _

Her magic had helped her dig four holes in the wet Fereldan soil, and magic helped her draw stones from the earth for their grave markers. She had collected eight branches--four of strong oak to guide them on Falon'din's path through the Beyond, and four of whipcord-cedar to ward off Dirthamen's masterless ravens--and buried them with the only people left who had believed in her. They had followed to their deaths, in the end. She had no seeds nor saplings from their homeland to plant for them, but in their stead she lit braziers and prayed for Sylaise to protect their graves from those who would defile them. She set the shemlen and their caravans burning with the same fire, in their names-- for burning their dead was the way of humans, was it not?

_ __ _

Kethrin. Neriel. Harrand. Feora. And poor Rae'hel, Falon'din carry him swiftly, whose body she had been unable to recover.

_ __ _

She would not lose Seranni as well.

_ __ _

Seranni's ironbark pendant hung from her wrist, and she drew her thumb across the familiar surface, the pale blue-white wood smoothed and yellowed with age. Their mother, quiet and wan, had given it to Seranni mere hours before the wasting took her. Their father, their Keeper's First, bright and bold, had been lost to human swords the year before. His healing magic had been the strongest in the clan, stronger even than the Keeper's. Velanna had never managed to match his skill in that respect.

_ __ _

She was shocked from her dark thoughts by a human sitting beside her-- Nathaniel, she thought. That was the dark-haired one's name.

_ __ _

"How are you holding up?" he asked, quiet beside the crackle of the campfire and the rustle and clatter of the others in their party assembling their tents. Velanna's own equipment had been picked over by scavengers (what daring few had remained, after she rent their predecessors limb from limb), and her stolen aravel was too broken to save without a Dalish craftsman to set it right, but she had salvaged a bedroll and some basic supplies, at least. Fereldan nights were cold, but she cared not if she slept beneath the stars. She had done so enough times before all this, seeking her solitude.

_ __ _

"What do you care," she bit out, though without as much acid as she might have managed were she not exhausted down to her bones. She had faced many humans and beasts in her time, but a dragon was beyond any foe she had met before, and they had not slept since Seranni's darkspawn captor had cast his magic upon them.

_ __ _

"I have a sister, as well," he said. "A younger sister. Until very recently, I believed her to be dead."

_ __ _

"And was she taken by unnaturally intelligent darkspawn and made to serve their whims?" The memory of Seranni's once gentle face sunken and stained by darkspawn corruption made Velanna's throat tighten and burn. Even their mother had not looked so poorly, withered as she had been by disease.

_ __ _

"No," Nathaniel said apologetically. "I thought her killed in the Blight, either by darkspawn or… or otherwise. I know her to be safe now. I merely thought to offer you my condolences. If I thought someone had taken Delilah from me, I would have done exactly as you did."

_ __ _

Velanna's eyes narrowed, scanning him for any sign of insincerity. It was disconcerting that she could find none. He had defended her the day before, as well, and shown sympathy despite the fact that she had killed so many of his kind. She had never heard of a human behaving such, though she had heard rumors that the Grey Wardens did not share the same prejudices as the rest of the world and welcomed members of any kind. As they fought their way through that cursed darkspawn's lair, he had taken orders from Tabris, the elf that named herself the Wardens' Commander, so Velanna supposed that must have been the truth. Tabris was a flat-ear, certainly, but that made no difference to the shemlen-- an elf was an elf. He must also have been among the armies who had helped her slay the Archdemon and defeat the darkspawn horde. If he harbored any resentment at all for being made to follow her, he showed no signs of it.

_ __ _

Baffling.

_ __ _

As if he could read her thoughts, the human continued, "The Commander is a woman of her word. She will call on you in our fight against the darkspawn, certainly. But if there is a way to help your sister in the process, she will find it. And I as well."

_ __ _

Uncomfortable with facing how much she wanted to believe him, she turned her head, staring intently at the wood splitting and cracking beneath the fire.

_ __ _

"...Thank you," she said after a long moment. Weariness pulled at her limbs, making them leaden and unsteady. Perhaps it made her mind soft, as well, weakening her resolve.

_ __ _

"Get some rest," Nathaniel said, and rose from where he sat to return to his place in their camp. "We'll be on our feet for days before we reach the Keep."

_ __ _

\---

_ __ _

The other human was far less palatable.

_ __ _

"I'm just saying that _maybe _if the Templars pulled their swords out of their arses and shoved something _else _up there for a change, they'd be a little easier to get along with, that's all."

_ __ _

"Enough, Anders," said the Commander, in a tone that brooked no argument. Anders, however, was impervious to tone.

_ __ _

"Oh, where's your sense of humor? If we can't joke about terrible things, they'll just end up controlling us, don't you think?"

_ __ _

"Not the time or the place," she said, and adjusted her heavy pack with loud finality.

_ __ _

"That's what they'll say at first, yeah, but with enough lubrication…"

_ __ _

The dwarf, Oghren, barked with laughter, and the Warden-Commander sighed wearily, as though she had been through this same exchange hundreds of times already, evidently electing to ignore Anders lest he be invigorated by further attention. She wiped the sweat of travel from her forehead. Summer was only just beginning to subside, and the sun was still out in force during cloudless days like this one.

_ __ _

Velanna's eyes followed the clumsy lines of Tabris's tattoos, more visible here in daylight than they had been in the darkness of the mines. She hadn't been able to really examine them before, though she had known them to be the fumblings of her wayward cousins in the shemlen cities and certainly not the work of a proper Dalish artist. They held no meaning she could discern; even with variations in designs between the clans, the iconography of vallaslin remained constant enough to be easily understood by anyone of Dalish upbringing. The craftsmanship was shoddy, the ink beginning to blur and bleed. The woman would not have been called beautiful without them, but they marred her strong features further. It showed a shameful lack of education, Velanna thought, but even the city-dwellers must long to be part of what the Dalish had reclaimed, and she had led them quite competently through battle thus far. That at least warranted further consideration.

_ __ _

"How far do you think, Nathaniel? You know the area better than I do."

_ __ _

Nathaniel's head turned to the Commander from the fixed point on the road he had been holding while the rest of the party carried on, and answered, "Only a few hours, now. When we turn at the next crossroads, we should be able to see the heraldry over the trees at last."

_ __ _

"Thank the Maker," Tabris grumbled, then added, at normal volume, "Thank you, Nathaniel."

_ __ _

Velanna stole a sideways glace at him. In the light of day, his features seemed harsher, his skin more sallow. His darkly stubbled jaw and bruised eyes stood out against his fish-belly paleness. By the firelight he had seemed softer, somehow. Velanna found most humans unpleasant to look at, slack-jawed and brutish as they were, but while she didn't think him terribly handsome, neither was he entirely ugly, and she found herself examining him for long stretches as they walked. He seemed tired, a determined wrinkle ever-present on his brow. She was following the sharp curve of his nose when she realized he had turned his eyes towards her, pale gray and arresting.

_ __ _

"Is something the matter?" he asked, in that quiet, even rasp of his. Her face burned at having been caught out.

_ __ _

"No, I-- no." Velanna quickly averted her eyes, and picked a random patch of forest to focus her attention on. She could feel him looking at her for a few long moments. It prickled at the back of her neck.

_ __ _

"Have you ever been inside a castle? I know-- well, being Dalish, your people give such places a wide berth, I imagine."

_ __ _

"To do otherwise would be inviting the humans to attack us, or worse," she said. "Obviously."

_ __ _

"Yes, of course," Nathaniel said, cowed by her answer. "That was a foolish question. I hope you'll find it welcoming, despite that." Velanna forced herself to turn back to look at him once again, but found that he was frowning at the backs of their traveling companions ahead of them on the road. "And I hope we haven't made a terrible impression on you. These two can be… a lot."

_ __ _

Velanna scoffed. "I cannot afford to be choosy about the company I keep. My sister's abduction demands a response. But… well. You did help me find her. And you helped me escape. I would not have pledged my service to your Commander if I did not think her cause or her allies worthwhile."

_ __ _

That made Nathaniel smile, and ah-- there was that suggestion of softness. His eyes seemed to grow warmer as they wrinkled at the corners.

_ __ _

"Well, we are quite lucky to have one as skilled as yourself join the order."

_ __ _

Velanna clenched her fists against an odd jitteriness under her skin. "Yes, you are. Your mage's fireballs are pathetic."

_ __ _

"It's not the size that counts!" Anders shouted from a few yards ahead.

_ __ _

"Did they tell you that in your Circle? They were trying not to hurt your feelings," she barked back.

_ __ _

"The Circle _lied _to me? Andraste's sword, my world is falling apart! _I have been unmanned!_"

_ __ _

Warden-Commander Tabris adjusted her bag again quite pointedly, her gear clattering as it settled against her back.

_ __ _

Velanna had, of course, seen castles and human cities-- from a great distance, or in the form of uninhabited ruins populated only by animals and wayward spirits. It was easy enough to imagine what they might look like up close.

_ __ _

That did not account for the sheer number of humans she would be forced to endure. The closer they got to the keep, the more she saw; merchant caravans laden with sacks and crates, human soldiers in matching suits of plate armor marching in formation, lone travelers on horseback looking for shelter on the long journey to Amaranthine. The last and only time Velanna had seen so many humans, it had ended in fire and death.

_ __ _

"Hail, Warden-Commander," came a bellow from the outermost wall of the Keep. It was an ugly, sprawling thing, haphazard and visibly oft-amended and repaired. Older sections of stone met obviously newer sections met half-finished sections even newer than the last, crumbling Avvar construction crashing into Fereldan practicality and Dwarven overcompensation. Velanna had expected a castle, and there was a towering one in there somewhere-- it was simply that it was more like a colony of castles built into and out of one another, forming a strange little city unto itself.

_ __ _

As they traveled further in, she finally began to spot more elves. Flat-ears, of course, like the Commander, carrying tools and wheelbarrows and scroll cases to and fro. Disgraceful.

_ __ _

"Welcome to Vigil's Keep," Tabris said, gesturing broadly at the expanse of it. There were stone huts within the outer walls-- staff living quarters, perhaps, or storage sheds-- and between them little plots of gardens and winding dirt paths. Armed humans seemed to be around every corner. Velanna's blood thrummed in her veins. Every instinct she had was screaming, _danger_. "There was a contingent of Wardens from Orlais and the Free Marches stationed here until they were taken unawares by the same intelligent Darkspawn we fought in those mines. Now it's just the four of us. The rest aren't affiliated with the Wardens, but they serve the arling."

_ __ _

"Which just means they serve the Wardens, 'cause the Arlessa is also the Commander here," Oghren said with a grin. Tabris did not seem quite as smug about that fact as he.

_ __ _

"I suppose that's true," was all she said.

_ __ _

"They tell me she's the first elf in the country to hold a noble title. I'm new to surfacer bullshit, but that seems like something she oughta be proud of to me, yeah?" Oghren sidled up to Tabris, elbowing her in what seemed to Velanna to be an overly familiar way. But, she supposed, these people must have fought many battles with her during the Blight. There was a history there she had no access to.

_ __ _

"I'm amazed the humans allow it," Velanna said, and meant it. She had never heard of elven nobility outside the long-dead histories of the Dales and Arlathan.

_ __ _

"Probably because we saved all their hides," Oghren said. "Hard to ignore that. And, well, I guess if you lop the head off the old Arl you get to keep his house too."

_ __ _

"_Oghren_."

_ __ _

If Tabris had sounded irritated before, she sounded deadly now. Oghren had the sense to look shamed, after her thunderous dismissal.

_ __ _

"Sorry, Commander, I didn't-- yeah."

_ __ _

Velanna startled when Nathaniel picked up speed, stalking past her and all the others, doubling his pace towards the main gates. She hadn't been able to catch another look at his face before his back was to her, but his gait was stiff and determined.

_ __ _

"Aw, shit. Okay, hold on, kid, hold on," Oghren muttered, and shuffled off after him, plate armor clanking.

_ __ _

What in creation had that been about?

_ __ _

"Well!" Anders chirped, slicing through the tension. "I've had just about enough road for one lifetime. There's gotta be a pint and a blasted _chair _somewhere around here. Yell if you need me!"

_ __ _

Tabris stalled in the road, suddenly as weary as she had been angry before. She and Velanna were alone now, for the first time since their meeting days before. "I'm sorry about that," she said. "I'll show you to where you'll be staying and let you rest a little, then we can worry about… everything else. And I'll come by to show you where you can find a basin and a meal once I've dropped off my gear and checked in on a few things. Sound good?"

_ __ _

"Yes," Velanna said, following Nathaniel's rapidly disappearing form with her eyes. "Yes, that will be fine."

_ __ _

\---

_ __ _

Inside the castle it was cool, cooler than Velanna had anticipated. It was also dark; windows seemed to have been an afterthought for the castle's original inhabitants, and the tall ceilings gave way rapidly to deep shadows where the firelight failed to reach. Rugs and tapestries in warm colors masked the cold damp of the stone and plaster walls, many emblazoned with heraldry, a bear against gold and white. The castle seemed to be in a state of transition. In one room, paintings of cities and dark-haired humans covered the walls; in many more, there were frames removed from the walls, left propped against them from the floor or stacked up three or four high. Castle staff were in the process of moving furniture around, bureaus and chests and rolls of bedclothes migrating from one wing to the next.

_ __ _

The room they had left to Velanna was small, and sparsely furnished, but it was still larger than the cabin of her aravel. She guessed she could fit two aravels in this room, if one had been able to fit through the door. There was a window with wrought iron inlay on the far wall, where a small amount of dim light filtered through. The bed was a sturdy wooden thing, with a wool mattress and plain linens that appeared to have been untouched for weeks. A cloud of fine dust rose into the air around her when Velanna sat heavily upon it. Next to it sat a functional cabinet, and a fat yellow candle, only barely used. Velanna flicked her finger, and the wick erupted into flame. There was a chest at the foot of the bed for her things, and a small fireplace with fresh logs in the grate across from it, along with an empty armor rack and a dry metal basin on a wooden stand. Going forward, this place was to be her home.

_ __ _

She worried at the ironbark pendant, turning it over between her thumb and forefinger, staring, unseeing, out the window. The faintest sliver of the outside world, more brown than green; she was encased on all other sides by heavy stone, entombing her.

_ __ _

"_Tenderly land enfolds you._" Her grip around the necklace tightened.

_ __ _

She was startled by a flare of light, and when she turned to see the candle sputtering and spewing flame high up into the air, she snuffed it with a burst of ice magic out of sheer instinct. It left the entire candle encased in ice, frozen to the table.

_ __ _

"Stupid, idiot-- ugh." She was angry at herself, for allowing herself to lose control so easily, like she was some green apprentice again. But hadn't she spent the last month of her life leaving control by the wayside? It seemed she could no more easily regain it than blood, once spilled, could be unbled.

_ __ _

A heavy knock startled her once again, and she took a second to compose herself, smoothing a clammy hand over her face before she pulled open the heavy door. The Warden-Commander had returned, having traded her plate armor for lighter leathers.

_ __ _

"Settling in all right?" The Commander looked somehow less comfortable out of her armor than in it, as if she weren't sure what to do with herself when at rest. "If you're ready for a good meal, I can show you the way to the dining hall."

_ __ _

Velanna hadn't had the clarity of mind to pay attention to her body's needs until that moment, when she realized suddenly she was ravenous. She hadn't eaten since the camp porridge they'd all had at dawn.

_ __ _

"It's fine," Velanna said, and debated for a moment whether to take or leave her staff before finally, hesitantly, leaving it propped against the armor rack. "Lead the way."

_ __ _

Tabris's eyes glanced over Velanna, head to toe, for a brief second. "You don't have any other--" she said, then hesitated, chewing on the rest of the sentence.

_ __ _

"What? Out with it."

_ __ _

"Your clothes are… There's nothing wrong with your clothes," Tabris said, trying for diplomacy. "But you will stand out a little, until you're fitted for Warden gear. Generally speaking, the people here won't ever have met a Dalish before. I don't want them to give you a hard time."

_ __ _

Velanna bristled. "They can do whatever they like. I'm not going to change to make _them _more comfortable."

_ __ _

"I want _you _to be comfortable," Tabris insisted. "But you're right, of course. And if anyone _does _give you a hard time, you have my word they'll be dealt with."

_ __ _

"'Dealt with'?" It was intriguingly vague. They both knew how Velanna would have dealt with such a thing.

_ __ _

"Lotta the humans here had... _complaints_, when they put me in charge. As it turned out, so did a lot of the elves when I asked them about the humans they worked with. A few were turned out on their asses without a reference." The Commander's face hardened, her sharp green eyes going distant. "A few won't be bothering anyone anymore. No shem will do you harm on my watch. That's a promise."

_ __ _

Velanna had no idea how to react to this woman. Seriah Tabris had offered her help, and given her the only path she could see towards finding her sister again, and for that she had been grateful, but she hadn't much regard for the elves from human cities, who had forgotten their history. It was hard not to laugh at Tabris's clumsy imitation vallaslin. But Velanna had to concede that the woman knew how to handle herself in a fight, and if she had the same ire for the shemlen that she'd had for the darkspawn, perhaps she and Velanna would get along. If only the others of her kind, content to live in mediocrity in the human cities, were so bold. It wasn't the same as having Seranni there, or one of the members of her splinter-clan, but she had to take her allies where she could.

_ __ _

"Anyway. Wardens are quartered in this wing. Most of the rooms are still empty. Stairs at the end of the hall," Tabris said, and looking back, Velanna saw a spiral staircase tucked back into the stone. "I'm at the top of those. If you need anything at the end of the day, I'll be there. Meals three times daily, and you can help yourself to whatever's set out. If you want anything else you'll have to check in with the kitchen, but they're starting to understand how much damn food Wardens go through, so they should be accommodating, within reason." Velanna frowned, eyes roaming around the walls, trying to make sense of the pathways they were taking so she could return to them later. The woman's words only half registered.

_ __ _

"You spoke of some kind of… ritual," Velanna said. "When do I…"

_ __ _

"The Joining," Tabris said, before she paused to clear her throat, "will need some time to prepare. Tonight, just rest. Eat. There are baths, if you'd like one." She glanced back at Velanna at that. She had washed the gore from her kit, darkspawn and otherwise, in a stream outside the mines, but hadn't properly washed herself since even before her sister was taken. Her hair was an unsalvageable tangle.

_ __ _

"How long?"

_ __ _

Tabris seemed reluctant to answer. "Tomorrow evening. We will discuss it more then, I promise you."

_ __ _

The hallways and side rooms finally opened to a large chamber, marked as the dining hall by the long tables and benches, and the smell of roasted meat. More banners with the bear heraldry hung from the high rafters, the room lit by glass windows set into the roof, torchlight, and a large brazier at the far end. Servants with trays of food, human and elven alike, filtered in and out through a side entrance that Velanna gathered led to the kitchen. The room was populated almost entirely by human soldiers, around a dozen, though there were a few dwarven folk in laborers' clothes among them. As they walked past, many of the soldiers stopped what they were doing to acknowledge the Warden-Commander. When they caught sight of Velanna, however, just as many of them faltered, staring, or trying badly to hide the fact that they were doing so. It was hard to tell if it it was her ragged, unwashed state, or the fact that she was an elf dressed in a Dalish mage's garb. Possibly it was a good amount of both, given Tabris's talk earlier.

_ __ _

The Wardens sat at the table nearest the kitchen, and it was covered in so many platters it seemed to Velanna the table ought to buckle beneath them. She hadn't seen so much food at once since the last solstice feast, and that had been for her entire clan rather than five people. There was a plate of roasted game birds, already picked clean to the bones, several dishes of half-eaten pies, bowls of mushrooms and greens, loaves of dense brown bread, and many more items that Velanna could never have hoped to identify. The dwarf was already deep in his cups, judging by his complexion. He and the human mage were exchanging insults with demented glee.

_ __ _

As they approached, the mage, Anders, caught sight of them first, and began to wave. "Welcome, ladies!" Nathaniel, sitting across from Anders with his back to the two of them, whipped around, then stood from his seat so quickly Velanna was surprised he hadn't tripped over the bench.

_ __ _

"Commander," he said, with his fist over his heart in what Velanna supposed was a human salute. When he turned to Velanna, however, he bent at the waist, and the salute became a bow. "My lady."

_ __ _

Oghren snorted, but kept his face planted in his mug, while Velanna's face burned in confusion, standing statue-still. She had been prepared for insults and snickering, but not… this. She had never been addressed this way, by anyone, much less a human.

_ __ _

Tabris took a seat next to Nathaniel while Velanna was still trying to puzzle out how to react, and gestured for her to sit as well. She took the spot next to Anders, and only once she had sat did Nathaniel take his seat again. None at the table seemed as baffled as she was, though she had an inkling the others found it funny, for some reason. Was it some kind of joke at her expense? She could not wrap her head around it, and decided to forego commenting on it and opening herself up to more ridicule, electing instead to fill her plate with mushrooms and greens, and chancing a slice of the pie, which she guessed to be either beef or mutton from the look of it.

_ __ _

She had thought these men uncharacteristically gluttonous, gorging themselves as they were, until she saw the Warden-Commander's plate; the woman had taken more than twice what Velanna had, her plate overfull, and she tucked in without hesitation, putting away so much food in such a short amount of time Velanna had to wonder where on earth she kept it all. Tabris was shorter than she by a bit, though she was broader. Apparently she also had the stomach capacity of a druffalo.

_ __ _

"How are you finding Vigil's Keep, my lady?" Nathaniel, she noticed with mounting horror, was now serving himself seconds. His address only compounded her confusion.

_ __ _

"I don't know how you humans sleep under sheets of stone like this," she said, punctuating it with a bite of pie. The meat inside was drenched in some kind of thick, gluey gravy whose texture she had never encountered. It was much heavier than she expected, and she chewed with some hesitation. "I feel as if it will all collapse in upon us at any moment."

_ __ _

"Let's take her to Orzammar, Commander," Oghren belched. "She'll have a blast!"

_ __ _

"The Vigil was originally built by the Avvar people more than a thousand years ago," Nathaniel said. "It has been altered and repaired in that time, but that the original structure could stand for so long without being completely destroyed is a testament to its strength."

_ __ _

"If it's that old, it's that much closer to collapsing," Velanna protested. Wood improperly cared for would rot in time, but the roof of a wagon would never crush you to death beneath its bulk.

_ __ _

"For as much money as I gave Voldrik to see to the construction, it'd better not be," Tabris said around a mouthful of bread.

_ __ _

"It's perfectly safe, my lady, I promise you," Nathaniel insisted. "If there's time, I could show you the grounds? I can imagine it's difficult to navigate if you're unfamiliar with it."

_ __ _

Velanna's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

_ __ _

"I-- what?"

_ __ _

"Why would you want to 'show me the grounds'? Surely a Grey Warden has better things to do."

_ __ _

"I only meant to do you a courtesy, as I know my way around the castle," Nathaniel said, speaking carefully, as if Velanna were a pressure plate he was trying to avoid setting off. "If I've somehow given offense--"

_ __ _

Velanna huffed impatiently. "No. No, you haven't _offended _me." 

_ __ _

"I see," Nathaniel said, though he did not seem quit convinced. "Well, then, that is… good."

_ __ _

Before Nathaniel could dig himself a hole any deeper, Tabris cleared her throat. "As soon as we're done here, I'd like all of you to meet me in the council room."

_ __ _

"Which room is that, again, Your Ladyship?" Anders asked. He turned to Nathaniel, whose expression darkened significantly, and batted his eyelashes.

_ __ _

"Don't," Tabris said, emphatically gesturing with a hunk of half-eaten bread. "And it's the one down the hall from the throne room, with the big Griffon shield mounted over the door. Velanna, we'll need to know anything about your sister that you think might be relevant to the mission. I think she's our best link to finding and neutralizing this Architect. Wardens, I'll need all of you to go over everything we know so far about the darkspawn situation so we can form a plan of attack. Got it?"

_ __ _

"Aye aye, Commander."

_ __ _

The conversation carried on, but Velanna's eyes were glued on Nathaniel as she forced down the rest of her dinner. What a relief it would have been, to trust in his sincerity… and what a fool she would be. Had she really become so desperate that she would trust a human's pretty words?

_ __ _

But a traitorous voice in her mind dogged her:_ What if he is sincere? _Maybe he actually had no ulterior motive. Maybe he was actually just trying to make her feel welcome, in his strange human way. Maybe he genuinely liked her, though she couldn't fathom why, and wanted to know her better. He _was _a Grey Warden-- a decorated hero. Not all Wardens were of the same caliber, of course--

_ __ _

"You know, Oghren, when you drink like that you look just like the fountain we had in the garden back at the Circle."

_ __ _

"Oh, aye?" 

_ __ _

"Absolutely! Ale dripping down your jowls. You know, I pissed in that fountain once. Okay, twice. Well--"

_ __ _

\--but he was obviously a different sort. Seranni had often chastised her for judging people too quickly. So few people had given her cause to trust them, and to trust a human man was unthinkable, but perhaps...

_ __ _

As the other Wardens left the table one by one, Velanna waited for Nathaniel to finish his absurdly large meal, and summoned her nerve. "You may show me the way to this council," she said.

_ __ _

Nathaniel blinked in surprise. "I may?"

_ __ _

Velanna's resolve faltered a touch. "Y-yes. Since you seemed to want to show me the castle so badly. Unless you--"

_ __ _

"I will _happily_," Nathaniel said before she could second-guess herself, rising from his seat and inclining his head to her with a gesture, "show you the way, my lady."

_ __ _

"Good," she said. Her face felt noticeably hot. She refused to acknowledge it.

_ __ _

"We're in the east wing of the Keep, at the moment," Nathaniel explained, as he led her from the great hall. "The kitchen and informal dining halls are here, of course, as well as the guard barracks and the healers. You've come from the west wing; that's where they've assigned the Wardens. They used to be guest chambers for visiting dignitaries and their retainers, and the like, when it-- before Amaranthine was granted to the Grey Wardens. That's where you'll find the armory, as well. The throne room and the Commander's council chamber are centrally located-- here." The hall opened up into a greatroom as large as the dining hall had been, with enormous wooden pillars and crossbeams stretching high up into the ceiling. There were skylights here, as well, and Velanna could see now that it had grown dark, though she could not see the stars. Tall bookshelves and gilded treasures lined the walls, which were adorned with the same heraldry she had seen before, but also the distinctive blue and silver griffons of the Grey Wardens. A throne sat at the head of the room, empty.

_ __ _

Past that and down another hallway was the council room Tabris had directed them towards, she and the other Wardens having arrived just ahead of them. An enormous Grey Warden shield with rearing griffon heraldry hung over the wooden double doors, and inside was a large wooden table covered in maps and markers, as well as a dozen or so heavy wooden chairs. With a flourish, Anders lit a brazier that hung from the ceiling in the windowless room.

_ __ _

Nathaniel paused in the doorway, giving a slight bow as he waited for Velanna to enter before him. She eyed him suspiciously as she passed.

_ __ _

Tabris seemed to be keeping a close eye on him as well. "Close the doors, please," she said, and Nathaniel obeyed. "All right, now that you're all here, I'd like to make a few things clear." She leaned on the table with both hands, scanning over each of them one by one. "The First Warden has trusted Seneschal Varel and his people with a lot. More than they trust most outside the order. But they are not _members _of the order. There are things they can be trusted with, and things we are not permitted to share with them, or with anyone. Anything we discuss in this room? Stays in this room, unless otherwise noted. Understood?"

_ __ _

"Commander," the three men responded.

_ __ _

Taking their cue, Velanna quickly added, "I understand."

_ __ _

"Thank you. Now, Velanna," Tabris said, and turned her full attention toward her. "If you could, I need you to answer a few questions about what happened to your people." Velanna steeled herself, and nodded. "About how long had it been since your sister went missing when we found her?"

_ __ _

"A week, perhaps," Velanna said. "Maybe a few days more. She and Rae'hel had vanished, the others… slain." The memories of that week were a blur of death and fire. She wasn't even sure how much she had slept or eaten during that time. The last of her lyrium supply had been quite thoroughly depleted by the time the Wardens arrived.

_ __ _

Tabris peered off in thought, smoothing her hand over her mouth. "Your sister… She appeared to be what we call a ghoul. People who contract the darkspawn taint but don't immediately die become… _like _the darkspawn. They can sense them, and hear their song."

_ __ _

"Song?" Velanna was sure she had never heard a darkspawn doing anything she would consider _singing_.

_ __ _

"It's the way the darkspawn communicate, a twisted song only they and any other tainted thing can hear. A ghoul slowly loses their faculties, everything in their head is drowned out by that song, whispering in their ear, and eventually they're compelled to behave as the darkspawn do. But they're sick, the same as anyone exposed to the taint. It may take months, maybe even years, but they will eventually die."

_ __ _

"Seranni is... dying," Velanna said, cold fear sinking into her gut. Seranni had looked dreadfully ill, that was plain to see, but to hear it lain out in such terms gave it terrifying finality.

_ __ _

"Yes. I'm sorry. I have no idea how long she might hold out. But something about it is… wrong." Tabris frowned, deep in contemplation. "Ghouls are not, generally speaking, self-aware. They lose their rational minds, their ability to speak coherently. As much as her illness had progressed, she seemed completely in control of herself and her mind. Whatever has granted the darkspawn intelligence and speech, perhaps it has also kept your sister from completely losing her sanity. I can't predict what form her infection will take or how fast it'll spread. But if we can find her again, and she does still have the ability to reason, maybe you'll be able to get through to her. She was willing to help us before. I'm hoping she'll be willing again."

_ __ _

"Those… notes you found, in the Architect's..._ torture chamber_," Velanna bit out through gritted teeth. "He was using Seranni's good nature against her. Between she and I, Seranni is the one who got all the social graces. She always wanted to see both sides of an argument. I wouldn't be surprised if she was taken advantage of by this 'Architect' simply because she tried to understand him rather than cowering away from him."

_ __ _

Tabris mulled that over, chewing her lip. "It sounded like he wanted to make her his recruitment tool."

_ __ _

"She was always persuasive." Velanna could still remember how Seranni had pleaded with her to stay, the day Ilshae declared her exile. In the end Seranni had left with her, begging the Keeper for understanding, convinced she could sway Velanna from her path. Even through the pain of rejection, she had been proud in that moment to call Seranni her sister, knowing Seranni loved her enough to risk everything. It all felt poisoned, now.

_ __ _

"The Architect's messenger led a sneak attack on the Keep and the Wardens a month ago. Now we've had a face to face encounter with him, but it's still unclear what his ultimate goal is, aside from wiping out the Warden presence in Amaranthine. He's experimenting, studying Wardens _and _darkspawn… These new talking darkspawn seem like his doing."

_ __ _

"But then where did _he _come from," Oghren said. "You and I saw a lot of darkspawn magic down there in the Deep, but I never saw one of them buggers that looked like that thing."

_ __ _

"That's the big question, yeah," Tabris said. "My guess is we won't find anything out until we find wherever he's hiding now. Now that we've found and cleared out his little lair, he's not likely to return to it. But there are other darkspawn incursions topside, so there's a chance we could follow them back to the source and find him again. Our best lead there comes from Captain Garevel. Darkspawn have been attacking farmholds and travelers on the outskirts of the arling for weeks. Too organized to be horde stragglers. But the Captain tells me we have a couple of hunters that tripped over an entrance to the Deep Roads and a whole mess of 'spawn. I think following that lead is our best bet, moving forward."

_ __ _

"And where is this entrance?" asked Nathaniel.

_ __ _

"The hunters are waiting to see us in person, in the city proper. Probably hoping for coin in exchange for the location. So, we'll head to the city to restock and interview the hunters. From there, the Deep Roads."

_ __ _

"If I may… How much time are we likely to spend in the city?"

_ __ _

"A day and a night," Tabris said. "So once we're done getting supplies and we've got the information we need, you're free to go wherever you please, as long as you're ready to leave first thing the next morning."

_ __ _

Nathaniel smiled gently. "Thank you, Commander, I appreciate that."

_ __ _

"Family is important," Tabris said, her expression softening. "You need to take the time you can."

_ __ _

Velanna puzzled over what Tabris could mean, before she remembered-- Nathaniel had mentioned a sister before, hadn't he? A sister whose life he had once feared for. A pang of melancholy thrummed in her chest.

_ __ _

"All right, so that's the plan. One more day here at Vigil's Keep, and then we'll head to the city." The Commander's gaze fell on Velanna, sobering quickly. "Velanna's Joining ceremony will be tomorrow evening. Anders, I'll need you to see me tomorrow afternoon for the preparations."

_ __ _

"Work, work, work," said Anders with an easy smile. So, there was to be magic involved in whatever this "Joining" entailed.

_ __ _

"That's the idea. But that's all for tonight. Dismissed." The Wardens started to clear out, Velanna intending to follow them back to their wing, when Tabris added, "Nathaniel, if you could stay a second?"

_ __ _

As she'd asked, Nathaniel hung back from the others, leaving Velanna with no choice but to trail after Anders and Oghren as they headed for the west wing.

_ __ _

"So," said Anders after a moment or two, glancing back at her in the flickering torchlight. _"Velanna_. Have I ever told you that I find tattoos on women _incredibly _attractive?"

_ __ _

"Have I ever told you," she sneered, "that I find most humans physically and morally repulsive?"

_ __ _

Anders looked briefly taken aback. "Good to know!" Velanna took the excuse to turn around and stalk in the other direction, her skin crawling. This was no more appealing than being gawped at like a sideshow in the dining hall had been. Oghren burst into laughter behind her, teasing Anders for his poorly-played hand. She'd rather be lost in this stone prison for a while longer than be subjected to their foolishness for another moment, she decided.

_ __ _

As their voices faded out, however, she realized she had nearly returned to the chamber where Tabris and Nathaniel were still speaking in hushed tones. She froze where she stood, lingering just around the corner.

_ __ _

"...tentions are, but--"

_ __ _

"...mander… re you I've no ill…"

_ __ _

Heart pounding, she strained closer, daring a few more steps.

_ __ _

"Just… give her a little space, please. The last thing she needs right now is unwanted attention."

_ __ _

Velanna's blood rushed in her ears. Were they talking about _her?_

_ __ _

"You think so little of my character?"

_ __ _

"No, Nathaniel, I think she's traumatized, and it's going to take her some time to adjust. Assuming she even lives through the Joining, which you'd best keep in mind. And I know that's a bitch of a thing, but it's the truth."

_ __ _

Velanna swallowed heavily, willing her heart to thud more quietly, her breath to slow. The Commander had already warned her that becoming a Warden was a permanent change, the resulting changes to her physiology significant and potentially deadly. She hadn't worked out that she might not even make it past her first night. Was it a test of ability, perhaps, or something more dire?

_ __ _

"I'm sorry. I know what you're trying to do. I also know what it's like to be in her position. Just… time and space, okay?"

_ __ _

There was a long pause. Velanna wondered if she had missed a reply when she finally heard Nathaniel's grave voice say, "If that is what you think is best, Commander."

_ __ _

"It is. That's all for now."

_ __ _

Velanna's stomach leapt up into her throat, and she scrambled away, trying to find a less compromising place to have wandered off to as they emerged from the chamber. She ducked into a side room, where a portrait of a severe, dark haired noblewoman with pale eyes, half concealed by a swath of white cloth, hung over a solid-looking desk and a pair of empty bookshelves. Crates lay on the floor, packed with things that would presumably be either moved or sold soon. Velanna had never had much cause to follow human politics, but she sensed the significance, watching the evidence of the castle's previous occupants being stripped away room by room.

_ __ _

She stepped back out of it just as Nathaniel was about to round the corner ahead of her, and the clatter of her boots on the stone floor made him turn.

_ __ _

"Velanna," he said, quietly surprised. "What are you-- Ah, did you lose your way, my lady?"

_ __ _

"I-- yes," she lied. "I'm afraid I got turned around somewhere." She scoffed, feigning dismissiveness. "Blasted human buildings."

_ __ _

Nathaniel hesitated before he offered to be her guide once again. Was he still smarting from the conversation with Tabris? She peered into his face, trying to discern his intentions.

_ __ _

"I don't need your pity, you know," she said after a moment. "If you think that I'm in such pathetically diminished circumstances that I'll fall for… whatever this is, you're wrong." The crease in his brow deepened at that.

_ __ _

"I'm only trying to be a gentleman. You think that my being polite is _pity?_"

_ __ _

"No. I don't know! I can't figure any of you people out," she groused, and tossed her hands in the air. "Why are you doing this? What do you hope to gain?"

_ __ _

"I'm starting to become very concerned about how people have been treating you," he said, and that only made her angrier.

_ __ _

"That's none of your concern! And it doesn't matter. I don't need you or anyone else coddling me or treating me like-- like some kind of delicate little fool who can't handle her own problems."

_ __ _

Nathaniel didn't get angry, like she expected him to, or storm away, like others had before when she rebuffed them. He just frowned gently, his eyes darting around her face, examining. Sweat prickled on her back.

_ __ _

"If I've given the impression I think you weak, or lacking in some way, I sincerely apologize," he said. "I only wish to be of service. And perhaps get to know you a little better, since we are to be comrades in arms from now on. If you do not share the sentiment, you need not say more. I will leave the matter be." He sighed, some of the severity leaving his face as he did so. "I admire your dedication a great deal, my lady. It is a quality I try to embody myself." He cleared his throat, inclining his head in a slight bow. "That is all I mean to say."

_ __ _

"I murdered dozens of your people," Velanna said plainly. "Most of your kind would have slain me on sight. But you defended me. Told me you would even have done the same. Why?"

_ __ _

"We all make mistakes, my lady," he said. "You were doing what you thought was right and just, given what you thought was true at the time. That's all any of us can do. What we choose to do now, as Wardens, can be our atonement, if we allow it to be."

_ __ _

The sentiment sat oddly with Velanna. Her throat burned. She was so tired, so bone-deep tired of trying to make sense of the sharp turn her life had taken. _Nothing _made sense anymore. And here she was, entertaining the idea of allowing a human to offer her redemption. Who was he, to presume to know her? To know the weight of what she had done, what she had lost?

_ __ _

What did he have to atone for?

_ __ _

"I will trust your ability to find your own way back," Nathaniel said when she offered him no response. "My apologies for any unwelcome attention I may have given you, Velanna. Good evening." With that, he turned and left her standing alone in the hallway, clenched with undirected frustration.

_ __ _

\---

_ __ _

One, two, three, four, five, six, count the bars on the window, the cracks in the stonework, the spiderwebs on the ceiling. Breathe in, then out. Try not to feel the scratch of the bedclothes, unclench your jaw, relax your arms.

_ __ _

Sleep eluded her. There were none of the usual smells and sounds of camp around her; the scouts changing shifts when the hours passed, the gentle creak of wood and nighttime wildlife in the distance. Nothing to drown out the thoughts running over and over and around in circles in her head, like a dog chasing its tail.

_ __ _

She turned to one side, then the other. She laid with her head at the footboard. She even tried laying out her bedroll on the floor, curling up there and shutting her eyes against the reality of the room, trying to imagine she was taking shelter in a cave, as she'd been forced to do before.

_ __ _

After what could have been minutes or hours of this, she gave up. It was a lost cause. Either she would find a different place to sleep, or she would not sleep at all.

_ __ _

She had left behind her things earlier in the day, but somehow, in the dead of night, she didn't trust them to still be there when she returned. After she dressed, she packed away everything in her bag, strapped on her bedroll, and took her staff in hand, slinking out into the hallway and trying to find her way back outside. She had no desire to be seen, so she would need to avoid leaving by the main gate, but surely there must have been another route outside. Following the windows around the outer walls of the castle seemed the best bet, and she did eventually find a side doorway that opened into a walled-in courtyard. The night air was not sweet and fresh and green like it was in the forest--or at least as the forest had been before Velanna set the trees and caravans alight--but it was a welcome change from the musty castle. A little cleverly-applied stoneshaping spell gave her the foothold she needed to scale the courtyard wall, and she landed on her feet on the other side with a _thump_.

_ __ _

There were fewer guards than she expected standing watch. A symptom of the fact that so many had been killed in the darkspawn attack, perhaps? Velanna had been evading detection by humans with swords since she was old enough to walk, of course, and so she managed to pass unnoticed into the night. 

_ __ _

She could see the stars at last, the moon a delicate sliver. She heard crickets in every shadowed corner, an invisible chorus. She closed her eyes, breathed in deeply.

_ __ _

The stable seemed the most likely place. It was out of the way, and quiet, the ceiling a familiar wood panel rather than stone and plaster. The horses… well, the smell wouldn't be Velanna's first choice, but it wasn't too far off from taking halla watch. The beasts were all resting in their stalls, unconcerned by her intrusion. Yes, it would do.

_ __ _

She climbed the ladder up into the hayloft, laying her bed out on a mound of hay and punching it down until she could lie comfortably enough upon it. She could still hear the crickets, as well as the quiet breathing and whuffing of the horses below. Within an hour, she was blessedly asleep.

_ __ _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Velanna learns a great deal more about what she's pledged her service to, as well as the human who keeps insisting she can trust him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally part of chapter one, but since it was so long it was suggested that it might be better as two smaller chapters. I was going to space it out a little but... I can't wait. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Also if you want to, come talk to me about Nate and Velanna on [twitter](https://twitter.com/starscollected)!!

_Iras ma ghilas, da'len_  
_Ara ma'nedan ashir_  
_Dirthara lothlenan'as_  
_Bal emma mala dir _

_Tel'enfenim, da'len_  
_Irassal ma ghilas_  
_Ma garas mir renan_  
_Ara ma'athlan vhenas_  
_Ara ma'athlan vhenas_

__  
__  
__  


\---

"If you're here looking for work, you'd best ask for Goodwife Taren."

Velanna startled awake, shocked to see sunlight streaming through the slats in the hayloft and a weathered elven face peering curiously at her. Her grip tightened around her staff, and she pointed it at the stranger warningly.

"Woah there, miss! No need for that. If you needed a place to sleep for a night that's fine, but I'm afraid we'll be needing to do our work up here soon."

He was a shriveled little man, brown skin lined with deep wrinkles. His silver hair and ropy arms indicated a long life of physical labor, and his eyes were large and watery. He was crouching a foot or two away from where she'd slept.

"Who are you?"

"Samuel," the old man said. "Been groundskeeper here at the Vigil for, oh, thirty years?" He peered at her a bit more closely, squinting through milky cataracts. "Wait a moment, you're that Dalish that came in with Little Nate and the others, aren't you?"

"_'Little Nate'?_"

"Sorry, Nathaniel. Known him since he was a boy, haven't I? Hard to break the habit."

"You... knew Nathaniel as a child?" Startled and still half-asleep, she was struggling to keep up.

"Well sure, like I said, I served his family as groundskeeper since the days of the rebellion."

Something slotted into place in her mind. "His family."

"The Howe family, yes. Amaranthine was no happy place to be when the Orlesians ran it. Chevaliers all over the place. Lost my father to one of those heartless bastards. Decided to take my chances with the rebels and found work under the Howes instead." Samuel smiled shrewdly at her. "Suppose the forest folk don't tell you much about this sort of thing."

"What does it matter, what the humans decide to kill each other over?"

"Because if you don't pay attention, you'll get caught in the crossfire, child. But no matter, you're to join the Grey Wardens, aren't you? That's what I heard. What are you doing out here in a barn?"

"Sleeping. Leave me be," she snapped, gathering her things, and she scrambled down the ladder, out of the barn, and back towards the Keep.

"Lovely making your acquaintance," the old man muttered, shaking his head.

Nathaniel Howe. Nathaniel Howe of the Amaranthine Howes. She had gathered that the previous ruler of the arling was ousted during the Blight, likely a result of the civil war that had made navigating Ferelden such a trial for her clan. Keeper Ilshae had done her best to stay out of the conflict and away from the Blight entirely, so until now the matter had been of little concern to her. 

_'I guess if you lop the head off the old Arl you get to keep his house too.'_

_And Nathaniel had stormed off-_-

"Velanna?" Her head whipped around to see Anders jogging toward her. "Andraste's blood, the Commander was sure you'd deserted when we couldn't find you this morning. Where have you been?"

"I couldn't sleep," she said, and added as an aside, "As if I have anywhere to run to."

"I think having nowhere to run is a tried and true Warden tradition, at this point," he said with a wry smile. "Out of the Templar prison, into the darkspawn hidey hole, or so the saying goes." When Velanna failed to laugh, he shrugged her off. "But yes, I'd check in with the Commander, if I were you. Let her know you haven't hopped the first ship to the Free Marches."

"Fine," Velanna sighed, shooing him away. She was too distracted to worry about causing an uproar by not being in bed first thing in the morning.

Before she could replace her things in the room she had been assigned, she came face to face with Tabris on her way out of the throne room.

"You-- you're here!" Her eyes widened in shock, a look of concern coming over her. "Is everything all right?"

"Don't be hysterical, I was only having trouble sleeping, for Mythal's sake." Velanna averted her eyes, her face burning.

"Oh," Tabris said. "I'm sorry, we were just… Your things were gone. I thought you'd left the Keep altogether." Velanna must have looked a contradictory picture, standing there holding all of her worldly belongings.

"Yes, I know, Anders found me first. I didn't realize becoming a Grey Warden meant I would need to wear a bell around my neck everywhere I go! You have nothing to worry about. I won't abandon my sister or my promise to you so easily."

"Of course." There was a small, sober smile on Tabris's face that flustered Velanna even more. "You have the rest of the day to yourself, but I'll need to see you and Anders this afternoon to prepare for this evening."

"And what shall I do until then?"

"There are basins and water pumps for bathing in the stone building near the smithy. There's a ton of books here, if you're the reading type. Shit, there's a training ground, if you wanna beat the tar out of some of the army recruits without getting arrested for it."

Velanna frowned. "You want me to fight your army for fun?"

"Some of them are barely out of swaddling clothes, they need to be kicked into shape. If they can't handle one mage they definitely won't withstand another visit from the darkspawn."

"I see." What a curious woman she had pledged her service to.

"Sorry, I won't keep you anymore. Lots of work to do for people who don't want me to do it." She sighed, massaging the bridge of her nose. "Enjoy your afternoon, if you can. Sincerely."

As much as the Commander had seemed anxious to make sure Velanna upheld her vow, she seemed equally anxious at the prospect of speaking with her directly about it. Velanna could leave, she supposed. As much fuss as they made, they weren't doing much to _prevent _her from leaving. They didn't seem the types to hunt her down for desertion, though she could have misjudged them on that. It was all very perplexing. But truly, Velanna had no idea what she would be doing if not this. This was her best option. Her only option, as far as she was concerned. She would deal with the consequences when they came.

Having been reminded that a bath was available, Velanna remembered that she had spent days on the road after having crawled out of a darkspawn hole, and slept in a barn to boot. At the very least, her clothes would need seeing to, but she couldn't imagine she smelled any more pleasant than the horses had.

The bathhouse was exactly where Tabris had directed, empty at this hour of the day, thankfully; nudity had never been much of a taboo among her clan, but she had no desire to be ogled by humans in any context. Inside was a water pump, as well as a collection of stone tubs and wooden buckets. The floor was very slightly sloped, the baths flanked by trenches leading towards drains in the floor, and there was a wood burning stove she presumed was meant to keep the room warm and to heat cold water in the winter. Velanna had never been inside a structure quite like this before, having only bathed outdoors, but the concept seemed clear enough.

She began to disrobe, winding the leather cord of her sister's pendant from around her wrist and setting it gently on top of her fur shawl, sitting on the end of the tub to tug off each of her boots. She paused when she saw the amulet that rested against her sternum, a carved halla horn with a heart of petrified wood originating in the Dales. It had been a gift from Keeper Ilshae, to signify that Velanna would one day take her place in the clan. She had left it underneath her clothes and forgotten it was there. Seeing it now, she was filled with loathing and shame, leaden in her gut. Before she could stop herself, she snatched the amulet and yanked. The cord snapped, the leather falling loose against her white-knuckled fist.

She regretted it immediately. The amulet was priceless, a relic of Elvhenan intended only for a Keeper. But she was no Keeper, and never would be. She couldn't bring herself to toss it aside, but neither did she think she deserved to wear it any longer. She shoved it in her pack and took out her frustration by aggressively pumping water into the tub, swallowing back a scream.

She washed herself first, scrubbing viciously with a battered bar of embrium soap from her pack until her skin was raw and red, but clean. As she unwound her hair, she was dismayed to find that there were bits of hay tangled into it, her fingers snagging on knots, and by the time she was finished detangling the mess her head was very tender.

Once the grit and grime of the last week had been washed away, she set to scrubbing her dress until the dirt gave way to gentle forest green. She supposed she would hang her clothes up to dry by her little window, for lack of a better place to leave them. In digging through her pack for a second set of clothes, however, she also found the plain muslin dress the Architect had dressed them all in while they were imprisoned.

She shuddered at the memory. The time after he'd cast his sleeping curse, before they'd woken up in that dark cell, was still a blur of confused images and pain. She had no desire to dwell on it. The dress was perfectly functional, but she wanted nothing more than to burn it to ashes. Maybe she could cut it up and use the fabric to repair her things.

She shoved the cursed thing back in her bag, trading it for her dry clothes and dressing herself, squeezing what moisture she could from her hair, then found the way back to her room, opening the little window to give her clothes a breeze to dry by. Having replaced her belongings, she returned to where they'd eaten the night before, looking around at the evidence of the Keep's previous occupants with newfound scrutiny as she walked. _Was this portrait of some relative of Nathaniel's? Had one of these rooms once been his?_ When she arrived, the dining hall was empty; evidently it was too late for breakfast. She would have to beg a meal off someone in the kitchen.

Inside, preparations were already beginning for the mid-day meal and supper, heat radiating from large stone ovens. The staff, a small, mixed group of elves and humans, were chattering comfortably as they moved about the room. One, an elf who was perhaps in her forties, with a flour-dusted apron wrapped about her round waist, seemed to recognize her.

"Ah, welcome, miss! What can I do for you?"

"I-- breakfast, if you have anything," Velanna said. The woman tutted, and flagged one of her younger elven workers over.

"There are oatcakes left over from this morning, if that'll tide you over. The stew needs to cook a bit more, but I'll get you a bowl when it's ready. You can tell me if it needs anything, my dear. Just promise not to eat everything in the larder like the rest of those Wardens!" The other elf sauntered away and returned with a cloth wrapped around a couple of dense brown biscuits for her.

Velanna accepted the parcel, examining it with a critical eye. The cakes didn't look too dissimilar from the hearth cakes she had grown up eating, and in fact the taste of the coarsely milled grain, lightly sweetened with either sugar or honey, was quite familiar to her. It was a relief, after the previous evening's heavy Fereldan fare.

"Have a seat here at the counter, love," the woman said, patting a battered stool at the hefty wooden table in the center of the kitchen. "You _are _that new Warden, aren't you? The name's Lena." 

"Velanna," she said, swallowing a dry bite of oatcake with some difficulty.

"Nice to see our folk finally getting where they ought to be, thanks to the Hero of Ferelden," Lena said with a wink.

"She's a Dalish, though, isn't she mother," said another of the elves, at that moment primarily occupied with peeling a basketful of potatoes.

"Is she?" Lena peered curiously at Velanna's face, as if she doubted the truth written there in ink. "Always thought those stories about wild elves were horseshit, myself, but I suppose they were true enough."

Velanna scowled. Was this all the elves here knew of the People? Disappointment curdled in her stomach.

"Did you work for the previous ruler as well?" Velanna asked, rather than explaining herself and opening herself up to questions she had no desire to answer. Lena's face darkened as she worked.

"Oh, yes, for a few years. We all knew to keep out of his way. I'd been told by the older staff his Lord Uncle before him was an all right sort, but when they lost him in battle and Rendon Howe took the arling… Well, things are much better now, under the new Arlessa, that's all there is to say about that."

"We're doing more work, with fewer staff," said the elf who had called Lena their mother, "But we're paid as much as the humans now, and there's not a soul left who'd beat us or nothing."

The couple of humans in the room glanced sideways at the conversation happening around them, she noticed, but offered no comment as they worked.

"I'll never forget it, the Hero of Ferelden herself walking in here in plainclothes saying, 'How do you do, I'm the new girl!' She did a day's work with us as a scullion and got the names of all the worst offenders, easy as you please. The next day, there she was in full armor offering us their pay. I swear, I've never seen the like. And Maker bless our good Queen Anora for sending her to us!"

Disgusting, how desperate the flat-ears were to lick the boots of their oppressors. "Did you know Nathaniel Howe, before?"

"Never saw the man, myself, until he turned up here like he did. Didn't really know the Arl had an older son until someone told me, since I only saw that girl of his and the younger boy around. Guess they sent him away just before I came to work here. Seems a bit odd to me, sending off a man already grown to be a squire." Lena tasted something bubbling away in a cauldron, peering thoughtfully into the distance. "The girl seemed like a sad little thing. Awfully quiet. Was never cruel to me or my family, like the Arlessa could be, though less so than the Arl if you were unlucky enough to grab his attention. And the younger boy was hell to deal with, though not because he was vicious like his father." She ladled a bit of her stew into a bowl, bringing it over to the counter and setting it in front of Velanna. "Bit of a drunk. Always sneaking into the cellar and nicking the wine. Turned up in all sorts of strange places needing a bath and something for his headaches. Might have been on a path to becoming like his father, if the Blight hadn't taken him first, Maker have mercy on him. Now, have a bite, tell me if it needs anything, would you dear?"

She had a headache mounting. The stew, thick and tasting vaguely of mutton, burned her tongue. She pushed the rest of the bowl away. Her appetite had fled. She stood abruptly and turned to leave.

"It can't be all that bad, now, can it?" Lena asked, dismayed, as Velanna rushed out the door. Before she was out of earshot, she heard one of the others bellow, "_YOU'RE WELCOME!_"

She wanted to light something on fire. Would the Commander still encourage her to spar with her soldiers if she opened the match by lobbing a fireball? It seemed unlikely. She stormed back to her room to find her candle still partially frozen, leaving a sizeable puddle on the table that had dripped down to the stone floor. She dropped to the floor in front of the fireplace, sitting cross-legged, staring at the cold logs, trying to tamp down the anger burning under her skin.

"Sylaise, I beg your blessing, and your forgiveness for straying from your path," Velanna prayed. Seranni had always urged her to remember, in her vengeful moments, _Vir Atish'an_\-- the way of peace. She reached for her bag, and the herb pouch within, scattering some of the contents in the fireplace and snapping her fingers impatiently. Sputtering, the herbs kindled and caught fire. The air filled with a familiar, calming smoke.

"I have called on you too often, and offered you so little, I know," she said, gazing into the weak flames. "I am sorry. I have tried to follow your path, for Seranni's sake, and I have failed at every step. But it is for Seranni's sake I implore you… Lend me your wisdom and serenity. Protect Seranni, if she still lives. Please. Please, help me find her. Allow me to stray not from your path, though I walk so far from my people in this forsaken place.

"I know… I know I am not what my people wanted," she said through the tightening of her throat. "But let me be what they need."

The fire offered her no answers, and never had. She stared into it sightlessly for some time, making an effort to draw even breaths, counting, _one, two, three, four, five, six, in, one, two, three, four, five, six, out… _

She was shocked by a rhythmic knock on the door.

"Are you decent? Commander wants us down there to get ready for your big night." It was Anders. She stood up, sore from sitting stock-still on the floor for so long. Outside, the sun was beginning to sink behind the treeline. She had been sitting in meditation longer than she realized.

"Give me a minute," she muttered. The fire had burned low and long, and was now down to embers. She dusted off her dress and took her staff with her, for whatever trial the Wardens had cooked up for her initiation. When she emerged, Anders was lounging against the far wall, arms crossed. His eyes roamed over her; a look that could have been called appreciative if she were feeling more forgiving, but she wasn't, and deemed it a leer.

"You look cute with your hair down," he said. All the calm she had summoned in her meditations fled in moments. Without answering him, she yanked her newly clean hair into her fist, twisting it until it formed a knot that would hold. Anders threw his hands up in defeat. "Fine, fine, don't take the compliment." Without waiting for him, she started down the hallway, making him stumble to jog after her.

"Tell me," Velanna said as they walked. "What is this 'Joining' meant to be? I gathered it was dangerous, but no one has spoken of it otherwise." Anders winced.

"Well… You're not wrong. But it's against the rules for me to tell you anything about it, apparently. Suppose it's sort of like the Harrowing, in that way. Normally I'd tell the rules to take a nosedive off a tower, but I dunno, it's more fun if it's a surprise, isn't it? No? No, I don't suppose you've ever had fun, have you."

"I suppose the Commander recruited you from a traveling circus, then?" Velanna asked derisively.

"Might as well have. I've seen how they keep those big, beautiful tigers in cages. It's exactly like the Circle of Magi! And, you know, when they find the handlers dead, the tiger's the first one they blame, even though he did _absolutely nothing wrong._"

"You killed Templars, then?"

"The _darkspawn _killed the Templars. And I killed the darkspawn! You could hardly blame me for that. But the _ringleader _didn't like me one little bit, and wanted me in chains. Tabris stepped in and invoked the Right of Conscription. They can't do a blasted thing about that, Warden laws superceding the law of the land and what-have-you, so here I am, on their leash instead of the Chantry's."

Velanna frowned. She had been aware of treaties compelling the elves to join the Wardens' army in the fight against the Blight; she might have done so, had she been in charge, but Ilshae had not wanted to risk their clan, especially at the behest of some newly-instated flat-ear Keeper. She had not realized the Wardens so often enlisted wanted criminals, with legal permission to do so. She supposed she fell into that category, though none yet lived who had come to claim her life or her freedom.

"Is this… common? Conscription?"

"Oh, sure. The Wardens are big stinking heroes now, but I've read some histories. Weren't always that way. Weren't even allowed in Ferelden until King Maric gave them a pardon a few years back. They'll take just about anyone, willing or no, as long as they're good at killing. Anything to stop the darkspawn. It's all a bit shady, in my opinion. Oghren and Tabris fought together during the Blight, so he joined willingly, but our friend Howe? He's only here because it was this or the noose."

That brought her to a full stop, ice in her veins. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, yeah. He was in the dungeon when I got here, believe it or not. He's all '_yes Ser_'s and '_as you wish'_esnow, but he broke in here to _assassinate the Commander._ Andraste's honest truth! Beat the tar out of four Wardens, as they tell it, before they managed to take him down. Instead of hanging him outright, Tabris conscripted him. Left it in the Maker's hands. Told him either he'd die by the Joining, or he'd live and serve out his punishment as a Warden. Worked out in his favor, though, didn't it?" Anders clapped a hand over his mouth, cringing. "Shit, I spoiled the surprise. Oh well, you'd find out about the dying soon anyway, I suppose. But I'm sure you'll live! Probably."

She didn't answer him, walking in silence the rest of the way to their meeting place.

Conscription. _Assassination_. The Commander had slain Nathaniel's cruel tyrant of a father. He had come to claim her life in turn, and failed, now an unwilling prisoner of the Wardens.

Such lies he had told her, that vile human, with his pretty words.

Warden-Commander Tabris was waiting for them by the doors to the council room, clad once again in full plate armor and looking as grim as Velanna felt.

"Anders, Velanna," she said, with a nod towards each of them. "We won't be staying here. There's something I need to show you both, and explain, before we proceed. Follow me." She led them to a stairway that went down, deep into a basement, where they found a locked room with a great stone door. Velanna felt a faint tickle of magic-- sealed by glyphs of some kind, she thought. Tabris turned a simple key in the lock, but Velanna could sense more than just mechanical shifting when the door swung open at the Commander's touch. It looked more like an antechamber than a proper room inside, and it contained only a small table and another door on the far wall, locked with a key but not with any magic Velanna could discern. Tabris drew another key from her ring and unlocked the second door. "The Wardens had this room enchanted and sealed when they were granted control of Vigil's Keep. Come in."

Walking across the threshold was like walking directly into winter itself. The temperature plummeted, Velanna's breath fogging in white clouds. The second room was smaller than she would had guessed, just large enough to hold the three of them comfortably.

"You didn't show me this before... It's like a tiny little phylactery chamber," Anders said, looking about at the air in horror, as if he expected something to jump out at him.

"I've been told it's exactly like that, yes," said Tabris, and she reached for a locked box sitting on one of the shelves in the small chamber. "The Wardens need storerooms like this one to protect their supply of blood."

"_Blood?_" Why would the Wardens need a supply of blood, she wondered, alarmed. Tabris was as stonefaced as the statue of Andraste in the courtyard, holding the intricately carved lockbox in her hands.

"That's the first matter. It's time I explained the Joining to you, Velanna." She set the box down, drawing another key from her crowded keyring. "The Archdemon is a terrible enemy, not just because it takes the form of a High Dragon, but because it cannot be killed by ordinary means. The Archdemon's soul can possess any Tainted creature, never truly dying. But during the first Blight, the original Grey Wardens found that by ritualistically taking the darkspawn Taint into themselves, they gained enhanced strength and endurance, as well as the ability to sense darkspawn. When a Grey Warden strikes the killing blow against the Archdemon, it…" Tabris paused, her fingers flexing as she held the key still in the lock. After a moment, she turned it, the box creaking open. "...it is destroyed, the soul unable to travel to another host. That is why only a Grey Warden can end a Blight. That is why the order endures today, and why every Warden must undergo the Joining." She drew a large glass bottle from the box, which was lined with dark cloth. It was around the size of a bottle of wine, but the dark liquid inside did not move, seemingly frozen. "We take darkspawn blood, as well as a drop the blood of the Archdemon itself, and drink of it. If your body can withstand the tainted blood, you will wake from the ritual as a Warden."

"There I was, thinking it took a Mommy Warden and a Daddy Warden," Anders said, slapping Velanna's shoulder with the back of his hand. "Turns out it's just blood magic."

"The higher-ups don't like it when you call it blood magic," Tabris said wryly. "But that is why it's kept secret. Nothing I've said here can leave the order. I've been told that in no uncertain terms. The means for conducting the ritual were given to me when I took command here, and I enlisted Anders' help before. Velanna, as the only other mage I have, I thought it was important that you also know how Wardens are made. I may need your help in the future."

"If I live," Velanna said. A line deepened by the Commander's scarred mouth.

"Yes. The ritual can kill you. I've seen two die, after they drank from the Joining chalice. It's an ugly death. I have seen three live, not including myself. The transformation is painful, and permanent. The life of a Warden is not long, or easy. Will you still choose the Joining, knowing that?"

Velanna thought of her sister, irrevocably tainted by darkspawn filth, wandering through their endless tunnels, forever lost.

"Yes," she said. "I will undergo your Joining."

Tabris did not seem cheered, but some of the tension bled out of her, her shoulders sagging in relief. "Thank you. Now, let me show you how the ritual is cast."

The chalice was a great silver thing, with some manner of enchantment of its own that Velanna would have to sit down and study properly to make sense of. It was old, she knew that much, and it radiated an unsettling energy. There were more bottles in the ice-cold chamber, and Tabris withdrew one along with the larger bottle, taking them out of the wintry-cold room and into the antechamber, where the air was as warm and damp as it had ever been. The dark liquid in the bottles, freed from their magical stasis, sloshed sickeningly. Tabris set the chalice on the table, and began to pour oozing black blood into it. Velanna's stomach lurched.

The Commander and Anders both went through the incantations required for the ritual, and once it had been explained, the Commander produced a vial of lyrium for Anders, who downed it like a shot and began to cast. The blood in the chalice churned and glowed, and then the glow subsided, the spell cast.

"Is that all?" Velanna's instincts warred, adrenaline coursing through her. She wanted to have it done, or she wanted to run-- but she could not run, no matter how her body urged her.

"Yes." Tabris returned the bottles, still largely full, to their places in the enchanted room, locking the door behind her and handing the filled Joining chalice to Anders to hold. The sealed stone door locked behind them as well, the enchanted barrier reforming behind Tabris when she turned the key in the lock. "Follow me back upstairs, and we'll proceed with the ritual."

They were led into the throne room, where the only light remaining came from the large brazier at the center of the room. Nathaniel and Oghren were both waiting for them, faces carved by deep shadows from the flames. Anders joined the two of them, handing off the chalice to Tabris, who took her place in front of the dais. She nodded her head, indicating that Velanna ought to stand before her. Nathaniel's eyes caught hers as she passed. It jolted her, her face twisting into a wary scowl. He flinched.

_Good, _she thought. _Let him squirm._

_"Join us, Brothers and Sisters," _Tabris began, her gruff voice resonating in the quiet of the hall, where only the crackling of the fire could be heard._ "Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten, and that one day we shall join you."_

Tabris held aloft the chalice, and the cursed blood within. Velanna accepted it, her heart racing.

"Velanna, from this moment forth, you are a Grey Warden."

Velanna stared deep into the black liquid, her throat tight. There was no turning back.

"Then let it be," she whispered, and drank deep.

When she was a child, during a foolish game gone terribly wrong, Seranni had pushed her into a river crusted over with ice. Velanna had broken through and plunged into the freezing water, stabbing through her like thousands of needles, until finally she grew numb and all she could feel was cold and exhaustion. When they fished her out and warmed her back up, the icy water had left her frostbitten, and it burned her skin like fire. It was only by her father's healing skills and Mythal's mercy that Velanna had lived without losing any fingers or toes.

The pain of this was worse. The blood was oil-slick and syrupy, but tasted as vile as rot. It slid down her throat slowly and burned like bile, then stronger, and stronger, until she wondered if it would burn entirely through her, acid-like. She convulsed, doubling over in agony, the empty chalice slipping from her hands and clattering to the floor. The room spun, her vision going white.

An image flashed before her blinded eyes; darkspawn, bone-white and ghoulish, blighted rot staining their fanged mouths, their eyes dark pits in their skull-like faces. She could hear it. Creators have mercy on her, she could hear them _all_, singing in a dark and terrible litany, whispering through her and all around her, inescapably.

Her vision began to return, and she tried to blink the apparition away. She found she was on her back, on the floor, the other Wardens crowded over her prone form. More than seeing them, she could _feel _them, a tickle at the edge of her consciousness, or a pulse secondary to her own heartbeat. The darkspawn's loathsome visage was still burned into her mind. She could still see it hovering over her now, with shadowed eyes and deathly pale skin.

"She lives," the creature said, in Nathaniel's voice.

\---

__  
_Where will you go, little one_  
_Lost to me in sleep?_  
_Seek truth in a forgotten land_  
_Deep within your heart._

_Never fear, little one,_  
_Wherever you shall go._  
_Follow my voice--_  
_I will call you home._  
_I will call you home. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wardens arrive in Amaranthine, and Tabris takes Velanna on a tour of the city that leaves her feeling unbalanced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a day off to do nothing but work on this, and now my head is spinning, but it's here! Thank you so much to everyone who's commented and kudosed so far, I'm so unbelievably happy that literally anyone but me wants to read this. :'))) And again, mega thanks to electricshoebox for being my friend in the writing trenches and also for being my second pair of eyes. There's a fair amount of canon dialogue included in this chapter, with some adjustments and expansions.
> 
> Also, content warning: this chapter includes talk of menstruation and infertility, as well as canon-typical discussions of institutionalized oppression.

_When waked, we walked where willows wail,_  
_whose withered windings want wassail._  
_We weary-worn with wited wale,_  
_were wavering with wanion ward._  
_When wishing waned, we wighters warred._  
_When wolfen wan, we wastrels warred.  
_

\---

Every step on the road to Amaranthine was a trial.

Hunger gnawed at Velanna's stomach, but they would not be stopping to rest or eat for at least an hour or two, by the Commander's estimate, and the kitchen staff had been suspiciously stingy with the oatcakes when she had returned after breakfast to stash some away for the trip. She shouldn't still be hungry. She had horrified herself, after waking from haunted, restless, sheet-grasping sleep to find herself hungrier than she'd ever been, and when she was presented with her first meal as a Grey Warden, she descended upon it like a starved animal, rending flesh from bone with teeth and bare fingers, slurping down porridge like water. The others had been amused, but not surprised; a side-effect of a Warden's transformation was vastly increased hunger. They promised her that it would become manageable in time, but for now, she was considering gnawing on the leather of her new boots.

Those were another issue. The new armor was-- it was functional, and she supposed it was necessary, but the weight of it was irritating, and the boots weren't yet broken in and comfortably familiar like her own. The unexpectedly frivolous armorer, Wade, had expressed his displeasure (at length, and quite loudly) that he hadn't enough time to outfit her "properly", settling instead for the closest fit they could manage with a pre-existing set of gear from the Wardens' armory. Wade had outright demanded the Commander allow him to take Velanna's measurements so that he could have a better set crafted for her upon their return. Now she and the others in their party seemed a true unit, in matching blues and silvers. It was unnerving to be so fussed over, but if it meant a stronger barrier between her and a darkspawn blade, she would accept it.

The physical discomfort almost distracted her from the relentless buzzing of her thoughts, swirling and circling like flies. She was slowly digesting the talk Tabris had given her the night before. After she helped Velanna back to her feet and walked her to bed with a firm hand at her back, she had lit a fire and begun to explain the ways in which Velanna's life as she knew it had ended.

"My Joining ritual was performed the night King Cailan's army fell at Ostagar. I was overtaken by darkspawn within hours. No one talked to me about how drinking the blood would change me. It took months for me to find out the full truth," she'd said, gazing into the dim flames. Velanna was surprised; she had assumed the Commander of the Fereldan Wardens would have to have been a member of the order for much longer than a scant year and a half. "You made a choice. But you deserve to know exactly what it meant."

Velanna sat upon the edge of the bed, and let her confess.

"You will have nightmares. Or maybe they're more like visions. They are true images, whatever you call them-- when we're awake, it's easier to close ourselves off from the darkspawn's collective mind, but we see through their eyes while we sleep. During a Blight, the nightmares are worse, and more frequent. I saw visions of the Archdemon and its army often, sometimes every night as we drew closer to facing it in battle. I'm not sure what form those visions will take, now that the Blight has ended. The nightmares seemed to stop completely for me, after we cut off the dragon's head, but I don't doubt they will eventually return.

"Your senses will take time to develop, but you will be able to feel the darkspawn, and the presence of any creature with Tainted blood, just as they will be able to sense you. It's a blade that cuts both ways; you can't hide from them, but they can't hide from you either, and if you're clever about it, you can outsmart them.

"You may need to eat more, from now on," Tabris added. A vast understatement, Velanna would later realize. "One of the drawbacks of added strength and endurance, I guess, is that it takes more to fuel it."

"That's why you're all such pigs," Velanna muttered before she could think better of it. Tabris laughed weakly.

"Yes, that's why." The mirth faded from her face, and her armor clanked faintly with her awkward shifting as she mulled over what she would have to say next.

"The blood is a death sentence," Tabris said after a long moment. "We are spared the rapid death others go through, but we are not immune to it. We merely delay it for a while."

Velanna had considered this. "How long," she asked.

"Around thirty years, I'm told, if we don't fall in battle first. After a few decades, it starts to overtake us. The nightmares get worse, and we begin to… sicken. The song gets harder to drown out, and it… compels you. The Calling. When you begin to hear it all the time, even while awake, it means your time is coming. Many choose to go to the Deep Roads and face it head-on, dying in battle before it can take their minds. I've never met a Warden who was that far gone… or, at least, who hadn't put their end off by unnatural means, but this is what I've been told."

"'Unnatural means'?"

"Blood magic. Blood sacrifice. A terrible price." Tabris looked deeply discomfited.

"I never expected such things from the Wardens," Velanna admitted.

"You'd be surprised what people will do to stay alive," Tabris said. Something in the quality of her voice sent a shiver down her spine.

Velanna had entered into this prepared to face her death. If she was honest with herself, she had been prepared to die every moment since Seranni was taken. She had no intention of dying before she saw her sister safe, but the chances dwindled with every passing moment, she knew. Saving her sister was a distant hope; to die trying was all she could offer, now that she had nothing to give but her life.

She had not been prepared for the Commander's final admission.

"You will likely never bear children," she had said. "Becoming a Warden makes it close to impossible, and even less likely the longer our affliction progresses."

Tabris paused, gauging Velanna's reaction. All Velanna managed was a distantly uttered, "Oh."

"You might find that your monthly blood slows or stops entirely, as well. That happened to me, anyway. I've never had the chance to speak to another Warden about it. I…" She looked uncomfortable again, trying to read Velanna's lack of outward reaction. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I asked for this," Velanna said, her hands clenched against her thighs. She found that the room around her felt very distant.

"I… of course," Tabris said. "I just want you to know that everyone here has experienced what you have, now. We all know what it feels like, if you want to talk. That's all. I'll leave you to your rest-- we'll prepare for Amaranthine in the morning."

Velanna's sleep had indeed been restless that night, though not due to any dreams or visions.

Velanna had assumed she would have children, one day, though she admitted the idea was a nebulous one, and more nebulous the further she walked into danger. She had never bonded to anyone, nor had any serious prospects. Seranni had been much closer to that than she; her long courtship with one of the clan's hunters had ended disastrously when Seranni chose to follow Velanna into exile rather than remain. So while Velanna had never given much thought to who would be giving her these children, it had been something she had subconsciously planned on. Someone to build a legacy for, someone to carry her family's history. As Keeper, she would have had a responsibility to the whole clan, of course. It was as common for a Keeper to be unattached as it was for them to marry--Keeper Ilshae herself had never wed, and seemed content with the fact--but Velanna's father had been a man with a boundless capacity for affection, and he always seemed to have as much time for his responsibilities as he had for his wife and daughters. Velanna had badly wanted to follow his example.

That hope had now been dashed, before she had even realized how much it meant to her. Neither she nor Seranni would be passing on any kind of legacy. Their family died with them. It ached under her ribs when she remembered, and so she tried not to, and focused on the ache of her stomach and her feet instead.

Nathaniel was a few paces ahead on the road, but when she noticed him slowing his gait to fall back nearer to her, she sped up, double-stepping past him and further up in the marching line. He had attempted to start a conversation with her a few times already, and she had dodged him each time. She had no idea where to begin with him, and no desire to; she'd enough weighing on her without worrying about his intentions. She'd even struck up a conversation with Oghren to avoid giving Nathaniel an opening, though she should have known better than to expect a more desirable outcome with the dwarf. (Bony or no, her _rump _was none of his business!)

She glanced back to make sure Nathaniel was well behind her, turning away quickly to avoid catching his eye.

"Your glares suggest that you do not care for my presence," he said, his tone careful and even.

_Take a hint, then,_ she thought viciously, grimacing. "I'm simply wondering how your kind can call themselves 'nobles'," Velanna said, and she chanced another look back to find Nathaniel's eyebrows somewhere in the vicinity of his hairline. "It seems ironic."

It took Nathaniel a moment to respond. Unpleasantly surprised she'd discovered the truth he'd been sidestepping until now, perhaps? "We like irony," he finally said, tightly controlled. He didn't look happy, but neither did he rise to the taunt. Glibly, he added, "And it rolls off the tongue better than 'oppressors'."

"Ah," Velanna sneered, "so you're a _funny _human."

"Not I," said Nathaniel, and he punctuated it with a flourish and a bow, exaggerated in its courtliness. "I wouldn't dare lighten your mood, my lady."

Velanna scoffed, whipping her head away and fuming quietly, lest he continue to tease her. With any luck, he'd leave her in peace for the rest of the journey, now that he realized she wouldn't be an easy target for his deceptive charm.

They stopped for the evening at an inn on the main road to Amaranthine, a noisy but well-kept establishment unfortunately named "The Bleeding Orlesian." There was even a charming little painting on the inn's sign, depicting a yellow-haired knight in golden armor impaling a silver-clad Chevalier on his lance. When the Wardens stepped inside and approached the bar, the raucous chatter in the taproom quieted for a moment, before a cheer rose up from a few of the patrons.

"As I live and breathe, if it isn't the Grey Wardens-- and, Maker's arse, you're not the Hero of Ferelden, are you?" A well-dressed man, maybe a merchant or some minor official, approached the Commander, peering at her in disbelief. Tabris looked deeply uncomfortable to be so scrutinized, though she must have expected this kind of reception by now, given what a celebrity she was in this part of the country.

"The very same," Oghren said, a terrible gleam coming to his deep-set eyes. "I was there with her, the day she landed the killing blow on the Archdemon." If Velanna had learned anything about Oghren, it was that he was probably angling for a free drink and a captive audience to perform for, and it seemed his wish would be granted. The stranger ordered a round for their whole party on him. A crowd began to form around their group, Oghren in particular, as he launched into his telling of the day the Blight ended. The barman obligingly poured four ales for the Wardens, but when he reached the Commander, he paused, considering.

"The Arlessa of Amaranthine oughtn't drink what the common folk do," he said. It rang oddly, considering the Commander and Velanna herself appeared to be the only two elves in the entire establishment, unless they were hiding a few in the storeroom. He began perusing the various bottles on display. "Ought to be top shelf for such a high lady." He returned with an unlabeled bottle of something rich and brown, and made to pour it into a small glass rather than one of the larger mugs. He was interrupted by Nathaniel, who smoothly set his hand over the glass before a drop could be spilled.

"The Commander prefers the more common fare. There's no need to trouble yourself on our account," he said with a tight smile. Velanna stared at him as if he'd sprouted wings and begun to fly about the room. What in creation was he _doing?_

But the Commander didn't seem angry, or even confused. She exchanged a brief look with him, and something passed between them in that instant that Velanna could not understand. Without falter, Tabris nodded, and said, "Yes, just ale will be fine, and I thank you for your trouble. Are there any rooms left we might rent for the night?"

There were two rooms left open, and two beds between them. Some of their party would have to sleep on the floor, though they had brought their camping gear with intent to travel on to the Deep Roads after they'd completed their business in Amaranthine, so it would be no great inconvenience to do so. Tabris paid, accepted the keys, and called for a meal for each of them on top of that. A table was cleared for them while Oghren held court with the drunken crowd, a mug set before each of them.

"I'm sorry, Commander," Nathaniel said under his breath, once they were settled. "I hope I didn't overstep."

"No, you're right," Tabris said. Velanna's eyes darted back and forth between the two of them, desperately confused. "Better to be careful. Varel warned me about such things."

"_What is going on_," Velanna finally hissed, exasperated. It was like there was a whole secondary conversation going on that she had missed.

"There's a target on my back, 'hero' or no," Tabris said quietly, glancing around at the churning crowd. "Assassination attempts aren't outside the realm of possibility."

The meaning of their exchange became clearer, once Velanna considered it--it would be a fairly simple matter to pay off a barkeep to slip the Commander a poisoned drink--but after considering it a moment longer, she became even more irate. Who was _Nathaniel _to defend Tabris from an assassination attempt, when a mere month ago it was _he _who intended to do the assassinating? She stared at him in open disbelief. Had his loyalties really shifted so rapidly from one moment to the next, that he could so faithfully serve his father's killer?

He was spared more of her glares when their food was brought to them, another thick Fereldan meat and potato stew, served to them in some kind of hollowed-out wedge of dense bread. It was greyer and more flavorless than the fare at Vigil's Keep, but at least it was filling. Velanna devoured it more quickly than she would have believed possible of herself just a day before.

The drinks kept flowing, though the Commander quietly requested that the barkeep water down Oghren's as the night went on, and eventually the exaggerated tales of Tabris and her heroics slowed, allowing them to extract themselves from the crowd and retire for the evening. Velanna and Tabris were to share one room, Oghren, Anders, and Nathaniel the other, and the Commander instructed Anders to cast a repulsion glyph on each of the doors after they were locked as a precaution.

"The bed is yours, if you want it," Tabris said, setting her gear down in the corner and moving to unfurl her bedroll on the worn but clean wooden floor.

"Don't be absurd," Velanna scoffed, and shooed Tabris away, back towards the small bed with tightly drawn linens. "I prefer the floor. You people, your beds are all so soft I can hardly breathe, let alone sleep."

Tabris looked deeply skeptical, but didn't argue with her. "Suit yourself," she said, and began the process of stripping off her armor, unbuckling and setting aside each heavy plate until she was down to her dark undershirt and trousers. Velanna picked up where Tabris had left off, laying out her bedroll before she began to strip off her jacket and tabard, chewing on her lip until she could no longer bear to hold in the question that had been tormenting her all evening.

"How can you possibly trust someone who came here specifically to murder you?" Velanna sputtered, without preamble. She huffed, staring at Tabris expectantly. Tabris stilled, a frown etching itself into her brow.

"You're talking about Nathaniel," she said, and Velanna grunted as if to say, _yes, obviously! _Tabris massaged the growing wrinkle between her brows. "Who told you-- never mind, of course people are going to gossip."

"You killed his father, during the Blight, did you not? And so he came here for revenge. You'd allow a man like that to serve under you?"

"It wouldn't be the first time I trusted a killer," Tabris said with a raised eyebrow. Velanna's stomach churned uncomfortably. "But the circumstances in his case are… complicated. I didn't know whether to trust his intentions or not, at first, but since he took the Joining, he's proven himself to be a good ally, and a reasonable man."

"And how do you know it's not some kind of… some kind of trick, to make you complacent while he waits for another chance?"

"If Nathaniel had wanted me dead, he's had plenty of opportunities to make his move. He could have let me die any number of times. If he's playing both sides, he's terrible at it. It's hard to believe, from what I know about his father, but I don't think he has the heart for that kind of deception."

"You take the human's side so readily," Velanna scoffed. Tabris sighed deeply, shaking her head as she began to unbuckle her boots and shuck them off.

"That particular trust has been very hard to come by. I had to work to find it again. But when someone earns it, they get it. That's all I can say about that. Trust my judgment on the matter or don't. I know that's a place you're going to have to reach on your own, if you get there at all."

That answer didn't satisfy Velanna, but she could see she would make no headway with Tabris on the matter that night. With a grunt, she dropped to her makeshift bed, wrenching her boots off her feet.

When she looked back up, Tabris was down to her underclothes, large swaths of her brown skin revealed to Velanna for the first time. Velanna was startled to see that she was positively riddled with scars-- a long set of gashes that resembled clawmarks snaking up her forearm, a mark resembling a star on her collarbone, a wide patch of discolored, tightly puckered skin on the opposite shoulder where the flesh appeared to have been burned, and far more marking her legs and thighs. Velanna had seen the places where her lip had been badly split and her chin gouged, but the damage only grew worse below the neck. She was thick and square and solidly muscled, and had she been any less so Velanna might have wondered how she had kept herself intact after taking so many direct hits. She hadn't become Warden Commander by being overly cautious, Velanna surmised.

She slept uneasily, and woke with a headache, her teeth tightly clenched. After dressing, Tabris rapped on the dividing wall between their room and the others', and within a minute or two there was the faint shimmer at the door of a ward being dispelled.

The taproom was considerably more subdued in the morning, only a handful of sleepy-eyed travelers remaining from last night's raucous crowd. Velanna's mouth watered at the smell of breakfast wafting out of the kitchen. She was disappointed in herself for getting so excited about mediocre human fare, but when she was so hungry all the time, it was hard to be choosy.

Communal platters were brought before their table-- grilled fish, tomatoes, deep red-black sausages, dishes of stewed beans in a thick sauce, and more of those sweet oatcakes Velanna actually enjoyed. She reached for one, but her hand collided with Nathaniel's, evidently on the same mission. She snatched it back as if it had burned her, shooting him an ugly glare. He paused, then drew his hand back, gesturing to the untouched stack of oatcakes, inviting her to take one first. She scoffed, ignoring him.

"Still with the deadly looks, my lady?" Nathaniel asked as he served himself. Velanna's jaw clenched tighter, her head throbbing. Before, his unexpected addresses had seemed an attempt to elevate her, or mark her as a person of importance. Now she found herself looking for the hidden meaning behind the words. _My lady_. So possessive. The shemlen loved to talk about everything as if it belonged to them, as if they were owed something.

"'My lady' is such a _human _thing to call someone," Velanna grumbled. A muscle jumped in Nathaniel's cheek, but he kept his expression carefully blank.

"It is a term of respect," he said, while the conversation around them slowed and quieted. "You think it's human to be respectful?" It was delivered so seriously, she might have taken it at face value had there not been a challenging lift to his eyebrow as he said it. The nerve of him.

"Now you're mocking me."

"I think you're a lovely woman," Nathaniel said, spearing a sausage with the serving fork and transferring it to Velanna's plate, "and due some respect." He speared another, and added it to a growing pile. "So I call you… a lady."

Velanna snatched her plate away before he could serve her anything else. "Well, _stop it!"_

"Mum, dad, stop fighting," Anders moaned into his breakfast, drawing a snort from Oghren. Velanna flushed scarlet, shoveling food into her mouth so quickly she barely tasted it.

\---

The party reached the outer gates of the city a few hours past midday. As they had drawn closer to it, sprawling farmland and humble huts gave way to more tightly-packed plaster-and-stone structures, the roads filling with travelers and their carts. There were clusters of tents, as well, and harried-looking folk begging for coin or food. The Blight was seven months past, but the evidence of its destruction lingered far beyond the southernmost parts of Ferelden. Now, Amaranthine rose before them, the same white-and-gold bear heraldry that had decorated parts of Vigil's Keep billowing from towering battlements in the salt-scented breeze. Distantly, Velanna could hear the cry of seagulls.

If she had thought there were too many humans at Vigil's Keep, Amaranthine seemed a cruel joke at her expense. The streets were choked with humans going to and fro, shouting to each other or hawking wares from little merchant stalls. Human soldiers in armor were on every corner, grimly monitoring the chaos. She felt like a lone hare in a den of wolves, waiting for the moment when they would decide to strike. She had to remember that her uniform protected her, marked her as someone who belonged here rather than an intruder to be driven out, clapped in irons, or slain.

The Commander stopped first at the guard barracks, where the Guard Constable waited to brief her on the state of the city, and on their potential informants. The hunters they were looking for, an oddly matched pair of a broad-faced human and a taciturn elf named Colbert and Micah, greeted them at a stall sparsely stocked with strung-up game. Apparently, they had stumbled upon a crevasse that swarmed with darkspawn somewhere in the Knotwood Hills. They marked the location on the Commander's map, and she gave them a gold coin for their trouble, which Colbert accepted with gratitude.

At the Commander's behest, Nathaniel was directing them down the wide, grid-like streets towards the trade district, when a loud hiss from a dark corner drew Velanna's attention.

It drew Anders' as well; his eyes widened when he saw the source, a long-faced flat-ear dressed in nondescript leathers, and he turned to the Commander, miming that he would just be a moment before he jogged toward the stranger. A heated exchange in low whispers ensued, and the woman slapped Anders' shoulder with the back of her hand once before stalking away, circumventing the other Wardens.

"Word of advice," she muttered to Velanna as she passed. "Don't let him sweet-talk you. He's very good at that."

Velanna was vaguely disgusted. Anders, on the other hand, looked practically giddy when he returned to the rest of the group.

"I… suppose that requires some explanation," he said, oddly shy given his usual flippant attitude. Tabris nodded, urging him to continue. "Namaya is… a friend. Last time I escaped from the tower, I asked her to look into some things. That's why I was in Amaranthine. The Templars thought I'd come to take a ship, but it was to meet her. You see, during the Blight, they moved their store of phylacteries to Amaranthine for safety--"

"No." The Commander crossed her arms, her feet firmly planted on the cobblestone. Anders stood more than a head taller than her, yet her presence seemed to grow larger just by her stance.

"Wh--" Anders sputtered, "You haven't even heard what I'm asking!"

Tabris lowered her voice to a quiet hiss, glancing around to make sure they weren't being overheard. "We are _not _breaking into a Templar warehouse to destroy all their phylacteries."

"Not _all _the phylacteries, just _mine!"_

Tabris gave him a look that could tan hide. Angry splotches of color rose to Anders' cheeks.

"So long as the Templars have that sample of my blood, they can find me. I need to destroy it."

"You're a Grey Warden, Anders," Tabris said. "Invoking the Right of Conscription assures that they have no authority over you."

"For now. But what's to stop the Chantry from deciding mages in the Grey Wardens are apostates, too? I want to be sure they can't ever find me again. _Ever._"

"I understand why you're worried--"

_"Do _you?"

"--but the Templars are not going to risk an incident with the Wardens over one mage--"

"It took an intervention from the _Queen _before, you think that's going to stop them when there's no one around to tut at them about it?"

"--and I'm not going to risk an incident with the Chantry over nothing!"

_"'Nothing'?_ You really think I'm just… what, making it all up?"

"I think you're seeing conspiracy where there is none. _There's no evidence._ If that changes, then maybe we'll talk."

Anders' lip curled, his eyes narrow as he looked down at their Commander. "So it's one set of chains exchanged for another?"

"Don't talk to me about chains," Tabris said, deadly quiet.

"You've never understood," Anders said tightly. He averted his eyes, as if he couldn't bear to look at her any longer. "I shouldn't expect more by now. Have it your way."

It seemed to Velanna that Anders and Tabris had clashed over matters of magic and the Circle of Magi before, though she couldn't work out what exactly they had quarrelled over. The mood was sour and uncomfortable as they continued their walk through the city in relative silence.

Velanna was of two minds on the subject; of course the Dalish were in great danger of attracting the ire of the Templars if they strayed too close to human settlements, but oftentimes the Templars were just as happy to avoid crossing them as the Dalish were to evade them, or else they risked being attacked by an entire clan rather than the lone, frightened mages they were accustomed to. On the other hand, mages in the Circle had access to histories and artifacts her own people had been forcibly denied for centuries. Velanna had heard rumors of more elven knowledge hoarded in Chantry-controlled mage Circles than she had ever had the opportunity to study in her life as Keeper's First. They controlled access to elven magic, to elven writings, to elven histories, and even the elven language itself. Velanna could never have submitted herself to Chantry rule, but the thought of all those precious pieces of her culture moldering in a basement somewhere, hoarded by careless and ignorant shemlen mages… it infuriated her.

"Here we are," Nathaniel said. They had stopped in front of a modest shopfront, its awnings decorated with swaths of eye-catching orange cloth. In sharp contrast to the dire mood Anders and Tabris had created with their argument, Nathaniel looked hopeful and pleased. He held the door open, allowing the Commander and the other Wardens to enter before him. Velanna avoided looking at him as she passed.

"Afternoon, welcome to-- oh!" A stocky man with richly dark skin in a dusty apron emerged from a back room, and he broke out in a bright smile at the sight of them. "Delilah, darling, come up front!"

A woman appeared at the open doorway moments later, as dark-haired and pale as Nathaniel, with the same tall frame and long nose. If her looks hadn't given their relation away, Nathaniel's sweeping her up into his arms within a moment of seeing her would have. She gasped in delight, laughing as she threw her arms around her brother's neck.

"Nathaniel! I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon!"

"Neither was I, or else I would have written to you."

"Well, it's a pleasant surprise, and you're always welcome. I'm so glad to see you, brother."

"Be careful with my wife, now," the shopkeeper said with a conspiratorial wink to Delilah. "She's in a delicate state!" Nathaniel set her down gently, looking at her questioningly.

"Albert, shush!" Delilah protested, but she looked very pleased, a delighted blush rising to her cheeks. "Nathaniel, I've some news… I've only just learned that… well, we're expecting a child."

If Nathaniel had looked happy before, he looked fit to burst with it now, and there appeared a bigger smile than Velanna had ever before seen on his face.

"Delilah, I-- that's wonderful news! Congratulations!" Nathaniel kissed her cheek, and offered his hand for Albert to shake. Delilah slotted herself into the crook of her husband's arm, resting her head against his contentedly; she stood taller than him by a scant few inches.

It was strange to witness. Velanna's stomach turned the slightest bit at witnessing so much unrestrained happiness so soon after learning all the things that were denied to her. That it came from Nathaniel's family only complicated matters. Curiosity and anxiety warred within her.

"You can hardly tell, yet. We haven't told anyone but Albert's family. I'm due sometime in Cloudreach."

"I can't believe it. Please, if there's anything I can do for you…"

"Albert's parents have been just lovely, and one of his aunts is a midwife. We're in good hands, Nathaniel, I promise you. But I'm sorry, we've been terribly rude, haven't we," Delilah said, looking past her brother to offer a smile to the other Wardens. She withdrew from her family, falling with easy grace into a deep curtsy that conflicted with the plainness of her dress. Her husband, less practiced in such matters than she, glanced back and forth between her and the Wardens before he nervously bent into a bow with his fist at his heart.

"Ser-- my lady-- er, how shall I address you? Warden-Commander, Arlessa?"

"Warden-Commander, if you please," Tabris said, and returned the bow to the couple.

"Then, Warden-Commander, ser, allow me to welcome you to my humble shop. Are you with Nathaniel on business?"

Tabris explained that they would soon be embarking on a mission that would likely take them away from civilization for many days, and that they would be needing enough supplies for two weeks worth of travel at a safe estimate. She arranged for the purchase and morning pickup of a great deal of food suited for travel or camp preparation, as well as a generous stock of herbs and first aid supplies. Lyrium potions were another matter-- Albert's store was licensed to carry enchanted gear and alchemical supplies, but not lyrium itself in any form. He directed them to a dwarven tradeswoman a block away, who regularly traded with Orzammar and had dispensation from the Chantry.

Tabris gave Nathaniel her permission to stay the rest of the afternoon with his sister's family, and the others to spend their afternoons as they pleased, with the request that they meet at The Crown and Lion tavern by sundown. Velanna, however, she asked to join her, which suited Velanna fine; she would not have wanted to walk the unfamiliar city alone. Velanna craned her head around as Tabris completed their errands, stocking up on vials of lyrium which she tucked into a leather case designed to protect glass from the impacts of travel, in separate pockets. The bulk of the city seemed to be a much newer construction than Vigil's Keep, to Velanna's eyes, with many older, smaller, and more weathered buildings to be seen the closer they drew to the sea. There was also lingering evidence of the Orlesian occupation thirty years past in the mismatched gilding and ostentatious architectural flourishes tacked onto buildings originally made to suit more subdued Fereldan tastes.

Tabris led her into one of these buildings, a modestly furnished but clean place marked as an office of the Amaranthine Merchants' Guild, where a human man was working at a desk, surrounded by various ledgers filled with tightly cramped rows of names and numbers. When he glanced up at their arrival, a hopeful look broke his frown of concentration.

"Warden-Commander, you're back!" The man rose from his seat, walking around to greet them in the entryway with a slight bow. "Have you any news from the Wending Wood?"

The bottom dropped out of Velanna's stomach.

"I've dealt with your problem, and assigned soldiers to guard the Pilgrim's Path. The killings should stop now."

"Really? Oh, that's wonderful news! I hope the culprits have been brought to justice."

"They have," Tabris said simply. Velanna felt sweat prickling at the back of her neck.

"I promised a donation, didn't I," the man muttered, puttering back over to his desk to flip through his books. Tabris stopped him, quietly resting her hand on the desk.

"Keep it. Do something for the families of the slain."

The man's hand dropped, his face thoughtful. "You are… very kind, Commander. I shall do as you ask. Maker smile on you always."

"You as well."

Outside, Velanna almost felt that she could breathe again. Tabris stood quietly next to her, seeming to sense what Velanna wished to say.

"That man sent you to kill me," she said. Tabris nodded. "You said I'd been brought to justice. Why?"

"You're a Grey Warden," Tabris quietly replied. "The rest of your life is going to be spent defending that man in there, and the families of the people you killed. All the people in this city, the humans, the elves, every dwarf above or below ground. Rich or poor. Innocent or not. That's what it means to be what we are." She sighed, running a gloved hand through her hair, making a mess of it. "I meet a lot of people on the worst days of their lives. People backed into corners do things they can't take back. You can put an end to them, or you can give them a way out, and see what they do with it."

Velanna's throat felt tight. She had no idea how to respond. Tabris placed a hand on her shoulder, solid and warm.

"You made a mistake that can't be fixed. But given a choice, you chose a life in service to other people. That matters."

Velanna found herself unable to speak or look her in the eye, her face hot, but she nodded. No one but Seranni had ever put such faith in her. None of her clanmates had ever spoken of her so kindly. Velanna had not thought of her intentions as being so noble. Her own Keeper had mistrusted her desire to defend their people so completely, she had cast her out and stripped her of clan and title. And yet this woman, who had famously risked everything to save countless others, spoke to her as if she was some kind of hero. And for what, drinking a bit of blood? Killing a few darkspawn?

"Come on," Tabris said. "There's one more stop I want to make before nightfall."

Velanna's thoughts spun as they continued through the gridlike pathways of the city. Part of her was desperately clinging to the Commander's respect, something that she had rarely been given freely in her adult life, and which she had spent so much time fighting for. The other part mistrusted it, and practically resented it. Who was this woman, to claim to know Velanna so well, to see the goodness of her intentions, when she had been the cause of such death and horror? Her clan, her sister, even the humans caught in the crossfire… Ilshae had been right about her. Her heart flitted between giddiness and anxiety. How did she feel? How should she feel? She couldn't seem to sort it out.

She scarcely noticed the way their surroundings had changed, as focused as she was on just putting one foot in front of the other, but when they stepped into a green, oddly shifting shadow, Velanna looked up, and up, and up, to see the dense branches and thick green foliage of a great, towering pine tree. All around them, the buildings were small and densely built, some of stone, but many more of weathered wood, in varying states of disrepair. They formed a tight square around the base of the tree, and the open pathway surrounding led out towards the sea, where Velanna could see clusters of busy docks dotted with little boats. Every person populating this odd, dark little corner of the city was an elf. Tabris had taken her to the Amaranthine alienage.

"This is a beautiful tree," Velanna said, laying her hand against the deep red-brown bark. Even in the humid, salty air of the city, the cool scent of pine was strong. There was enough room under the boughs for two elves to stand, one atop the other's shoulders, its trunk wide enough for a half dozen to circle around it hand in hand. It must have been old indeed. "I did not expect to find one strong and thriving in a shemlen town."

"The _vhenadahl_," Tabris said, craning her head up to take in the full sight of it. "There was one where I grew up in Denerim, as well, though it looked a fair bit different."

"'The tree of the People'," Velanna translated. The flat-ears may have forgotten, but ghosts of their history remained. "The Dalish know this as a _dahl'amythal_\-- the tree of Mythal. Our keepers' staves are cut from its like. Our Keeper, Ilshae, had such a staff cut for me, for when I would take on her role." She wondered who would be taking it instead-- Faladhin, perhaps. He was a talented mage, for such a young man, and Ilshae had always been fond of him. Velanna's throat burned. She felt insignificant and ugly next to this beautiful, resilient thing.

She felt Tabris's solid hand on her shoulder again. "I'm sorry you never got that chance."

Velanna recoiled, tearing herself away. "Is that meant to console me? Ilshae knew me like a daughter, and yet she said I would have destroyed our clan. And you think you know better than she?"

Velanna felt a twinge of guilt at the Commander's stunned look. She did not know what mistake of Velanna's had led her friends and family into those cursed woods, to their deaths. She did not know that Velanna had rightly been cast out. But the misguided reassurances picked at the scabs, drawing blood, and Velanna could not help but be pained by it.

"Ah, enough of this," she muttered. She felt too ashamed to explain or apologize. Would that the earth would open up and swallow her instead. "Let us move on."

Tabris regarded her in concerned silence for a moment, but she let it drop, and left the shade of the tree, allowing Velanna to follow after her without comment. The roads here were unpaved, sandy earth dirtying the feet and clouding the air with dust. They drew plenty of open stares as they passed by all manner of elves, and more than a few barely-concealed whispers. Velanna's skin itched at the unwanted attention.

"Are those a couple of Dalish?" one muttered from an alleyway, gawking openly, jogging over to get a better look and gesturing to someone further down the road. "Nella, come see!" Tabris and Velanna nearly had to stop in the road to avoid walking into the two of them. Was such rude behavior common to the flat-ears of the city?

"Ooh, this one's very stern, isn't she?" his companion said as she approached, as if Velanna were a statue or a piece of pottery to be commented on. "What are they doing here, do you think?"

"I'm right here, you slack-jawed oafs," Velanna barked, sneering at the way they flinched away from her. "At least have the courtesy to address me directly."

"Oh," the man said, his eyes growing large. "W-we're sorry, great lady, we didn't mean to offend." If he weren't shrinking back so, she would have thought it sarcasm.

Tabris evidently sympathized with the pathetic creature. "Velanna, these are your people," she said warningly.

"Why," Velanna said, "because they have pointed ears and a delicate bone structure? How are these 'my people'? Look at how they cower." Velanna's eyes slid over them, distaste curling her lip. "They're like frightened animals. The sight of them sickens me." She relentlessly pushed away the feeling that she was hardly better than they, rejected by her true people as she had been. How much easier it was for her to draw blood, rather than lick her own wounds.

The Commander's concern transformed incrementally into anger, hurt, and disbelief. "Do I make you sick, too?"

Velanna faltered. "You… have proven different. You did not run in fear when I threatened you. Who will stand up for them, or respect them, if they allow themselves to be terrified of passersby?" Her heart was torn between respect for Ilshae, her teacher, her surrogate mother, who had called her a danger to their clan, and her knowledge that the humans who drove them from their lands would never have let them be, whether the clan cowered and ran or not. Was it better for a fire to rage until nothing was left, or be snuffed like a candle flame? How could anyone be content to roll over and submit to such indignity?

"You're a particularly scary passerby," Tabris said with a wry twist to her mouth.

"It makes no difference," Velanna said, flustered but defiant. "Human, Dalish, dwarf-- no one should be able to tell them their place."

Including herself.

Velanna stuck her chin out, gritting her teeth as she reached into her bag. They needed to know. They all needed to know that there was more to life than running and hiding and waiting for the next sword to fall upon them.

"You two," she said, and she withdrew her hand from her bag, fingers clutched around the halla horn and heartwood amulet. It still hung from its snapped leather cord, as beautiful as the day Ilshae had given it to her. "A Dalish amulet, carved from the heart of a tree as old as this world. Remember who you are." She thrust it towards them, daring them to face her with their backs straight and their heads held high.

The woman haltingly took the necklace from her, looking at it curiously. There. Maybe it would do some good now, out of her hands and in someone else's. Or maybe they would sell it at the first opportunity. She told herself she didn't care. Tabris was all about choices, wasn't she? Now the choice was theirs.

As they left the two startled elves, Tabris regarded Velanna carefully. Velanna avoided her eyes, chewing the inside of her cheek. If the Commander had any comment to make, she kept it to herself.

Their destination in the alienage was the home of its recently-instated Bann, Lethe. "Hello, _hahren_," Tabris said to the wizened elf who answered their knock, a bent old woman with thick, bushy salt-and-pepper hair and a pair of brown eyes that looked unusually large behind her wire spectacles. Her home was one cramped room, her bed divided from the kitchen and living area by an alcove across which was drawn a surprisingly beautiful bolt of dyed cloth, elaborately embroidered with swirling patterns. There was a fireplace, the mantle crowded with keepsakes and candles, and a mismatched collection of chairs and cushions centered around a modestly-populated bookshelf. She invited the two of them inside, and offered them tea. "We won't take up much of your time," Tabris said. "I just wanted to check in with you to see if there are any problems in the alienage that could use my attention."

There were, unsurprisingly. Bann Lethe outlined all the issues of the day, as she heated a kettle over her little fire. The ownership and usage rights of the docks beside the alienage were under dispute, the elves who worked there under human supervision arguing their right to own their own fishing and transport vessels. The potential repealment of the law forbidding elven civilians to carry weapons was still hotly contested, and there had been crackdowns on concealed knives and the like by the guardsmen, including the widely-protested detainment of an elven fisherman with a boning knife. Elves throughout the alienage were subject to random searches given no cause, and offered nothing for their trouble save a few new bruises.

There was progress, as well; Tabris had apparently donated funds to the alienage, allowing them to hire a number of elven workers to begin repairs on much of the alienage's most dangerously degraded infrastructure, shoring up foundations and beginning repairs on the most-used stretches of road. Lethe had been in communication with Denerim's Bann Shianni, and while the two of them struggled to be respected on the same level as their human counterparts, each agreed it was a step towards accomplishing more than they would have been able to on their own.

"She's a real firecracker, that Shianni," Lethe said with a little cackle. The Commander's face looked terribly soft as she sipped her tea. "All the piss and vinegar of youth, eh?"

"You've smelled her, too, then?" Tabris said with a lift of her eyebrows, and Lethe barked another laugh, slapping her knee.

"I'll tell her you said that, you little demon."

The tea was surprisingly good, though there there was no milk, warm and spicy and doing a passable job at smoothing the edges of Velanna's brittle mood. The drawback was that it reminded her how deeply exhausted she was after a solid day on her feet, lost in her conflicted thoughts.

Tabris promised Lethe that while she would soon be underground and out of contact, the moment she returned to Vigil's Keep she would speak with her advisors about addressing the elves' concerns. They were sent on their way with well-wishes and a pouch of tea leaves, tucked into Tabris' pack with a wink.

The sun was just beginning to set, the city painted in warm oranges and pinks as they left the alienage, making their way back towards the center of town to meet the other Wardens. The tavern was bustling, but the crowd was far more subdued than the previous evening's. They would each have a bed of their own that night, though still just between two rooms. Oghren was already well-situated at the bar, trading bawdy stories with the dwarf tending it while he drank. Nathaniel arrived not long after, sitting down for a meal with the three of them and cheerfully filling Tabris in on the state of his soon-to-be-expanding family.

"I can't believe I'm going to be an uncle," he said, practically glowing in the warm light of the tavern. "Sometimes, when I look at Delilah, it's hard not to see the little brat she was when I left home. Now she's a mother." His obvious devotion to his sister was the one point on which Velanna couldn't fault him. His intentions with Tabris, or with Velanna herself, were a mystery she was still trying to unravel, but if there was one thing she was certain of, it was that.

What had passed between him and Tabris, to make her forgive him? Had he truly forgiven her in kind? Velanna imagined meeting her father's killer now, and could not believe she would have any amount of mercy to spare him. She had been twelve years old; when the human sellsword fell beneath a barrage of Dalish arrows, Velanna had seen the life leave his eyes and knew it had been justice. Tabris, who had spoken to her so passionately of mercy and second chances, had judged Nathaniel's father herself, and found it just to end his life. What must it be like, to have been raised by such a man? To have been his successor? Nathaniel venerated his cruel father so much he had sought to repay blood with blood, and yet here he now sat. What was she to think?

The conversation flowed, mostly between Oghren and Nathaniel, as Velanna herself was too tired and contemplative to participate, but she noticed Tabris getting quieter as the night went on, glancing from the table to the door with mounting agitation. After hours had passed, their meal long finished, she stopped them all with a hand raised to silence them, and asked the question that had plainly been bothering her for some time.

"Where's Anders?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rescue is staged. Politics complicate matters. Velanna picks a fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon-typical but pretty gross violence warning for this chapter. Also, I must again stress that Velanna is an unreliable narrator and her views do not necessarily reflect the views of the author.

  
_I cannot see the path._  
_Perhaps there is only abyss._  
_Trembling, I step forward,_  
_In darkness enveloped._

-Trials 1:13

\---

"I'm sorry, Commander-- haven't seen your man."

"What about an elf-- brown skin, hay-colored hair, leather armor…"

"See more than a few elves on my patrol, but not many in armor aside from yourself. Would've noticed that."

"Maybe try down by the docks," the other guard said. "Meaning no offense, ser, but an armed elf in this city ain't generally on the right side of the law. We pick up a lot of the rougher sorts down that way at The Drake's Take."

Velanna could see Tabris' jaw working, but she held her tongue. "Then I'll try there," she said through gritted teeth, turning on her heel and marching off.

"Maybe the kid found himself some company, lost track of time," Oghren said, trailing after her, then shook his head. "Ah, who am I kidding, he did something stupid."

"If he's not dead, I'm going to kill him," Tabris huffed, practically jogging towards the docks.

The Drake's Take was a dingy little bar jutting out of what looked like a shipping warehouse. The patrons, an eclectic assortment of humans, elves, and dwarves, seemed to keep to their drinks, and the atmosphere grew noticeably tense when the Wardens disrupted it in their pristine silver armor. A quick scan of the crowd revealed neither Anders nor Namaya.

"Something I can help you with?" The bartender was a squint-eyed human whose coarse red beard was interrupted by a startling gouge, white-purple scarring bisecting the jawline and traveling up to just under one eye.

"Won't trouble you long," Tabris said. "Just looking for someone-- one of my men, blond, tall, human-- or an elven friend of his, Namaya."

"Namaya? Yeah, I know her. Might remember seeing her sometime today… Hard to say."

Without hesitation, the Commander withdrew a handful of silvers from her purse, sliding them across the counter. The bartender pocketed them without examining them too closely.

"She's not here anymore, but I saw her a few hours ago. Mentioned she was leaving town, heading back to the Free Marches. Don't know why she'd want to go there, the whole place is loaded up with refugees from the Blight, yeah? But I suppose the guards'll have their hands too full with that lot to worry about some, eh, unorthodox trading."

"Do you know what ship she's taking?"

"Can't say I do," the man said. "Seemed in a hurry, though, so I'd bet on it being the first one out tomorrow morning."

"Thanks for your time," Tabris said, and led them back out into the evening air.

"The Port Authority might have a schedule for tomorrow," Nathaniel suggested, "though they've probably closed office for the night."

"We'll try anyway," Tabris said, dark and frustrated. "You good with breaking in to check the ledger, if it comes to that?"

"If you think that's the smartest course--"

"I don't think it's smart, but desperate times call for stupid measures," she said. "Damn it, Anders."

"You've fought about this before?" Velanna asked, finally giving in to her curiosity.

"It's complicated," Tabris grunted, stalking along the boardwalk and scanning the ships, as if Anders would leap out of one at any moment. She froze suddenly, transfixed by something further ahead, and raised her hand to stop the rest of them in their tracks, pointing silently.

Velanna peered ahead and saw an elf, ropy-limbed and clad in light leather armor, with dull shoulder-length hair, exchanging coin with a dockhand.

"Namaya," Tabris said, and began to approach.

Namaya turned as they drew within earshot, her eyes widening, and broke out into a full sprint, practically knocking her companion into the sea in her haste. Tabris launched after her, heavy boots pounding on the wooden walkway.

Velanna reacted, reaching for whatever life might be left in the wood. There was none to be found, but to her surprise, the kelp of the shallow seabed answered her call, and she drew on the natural mana within it to make it stretch and grow and _reach-- _it burst forth from between the slats, winding and twisting and grasping Namaya by the ankles. She collided hard with the dock, sliding an inch or two, but the vines held her tightly in place. Tabris seemed startled, but only hesitated a moment before she drew Namaya up by the collar of her jerkin.

"Sorry about that," she said, as Namaya blinked away her daze. She had landed on her chin, and blood bubbled out of her mouth where she had bit her tongue. Tabris hissed at the sight. "I'd help you out with that, but Anders is my healer, so..."

"Fuck 'ou," Namaya coughed, more blood dribbling down her chin.

"I just wanted to talk. You're the one who ran," Tabris said, but set Namaya down, allowing her to sit up. Velanna didn't let her loose just yet, though. "Where'd you send him?"

"He didn' tell you?" Namaya drew her palm across her mouth, wincing and spitting blood to her side.

"The sooner you give me the location, the sooner we're out of your hair," she said, and Velanna punctuated her promise by tightening the wet, slimy seaweed that coiled around Namaya's ankles.

"'Kay, 'kay, enuh," she slurred, words warped by her swollen tongue and the blood still welling in her mouth. Velanna rolled her eyes and knelt beside her, grasping the woman's bruised chin with ungentle fingers and sending a little wave of healing magic through them. The blood didn't disappear, but she could see on Namaya's face that the worst of the damage was fading. Anders may have been a more accomplished healer than Velanna, but she wasn't _helpless_. Namaya wrenched her chin from Velanna's hand, spitting out another foaming mouthful of blood. "There's no phylactery. It's a honeypot the Templars set up."

"Of course it is." Tabris looked even more furious than before. _"Where are they."_

"Are you going to let me go?"

"Yes," Tabris said, catching Velanna's eye and nodding her head. Velanna reluctantly released her spell, and the kelp went lax and limp where it was wound around Namaya's ankles. Scowling, she began to yank it off in wet, slimy strips. "But if you lie to me, you won't make it out of this city."

"There's a warehouse next to an abandoned distillery, a few blocks north of the barracks. That's where they were supposed to be waiting for him."

Tabris didn't wait to hear another word, rising to stand and heading quickly in the direction of the barracks, waving to the others to follow.

"He would've done the same to me," Namaya shouted after them, stumbling back to her feet. "If it meant he got away clean, he would've done exactly the same thing!"

Tabris gave no reply as she broke into a run, the others trailing behind her. She had a target, and like an arrow, she was bound for it.

"That was a useful trick," Nathaniel said quietly, keeping pace easily. His legs were really absurdly long, Velanna thought.

"A 'useful trick' is dabbing cinnamon oil behind your ears to ward off biting flies," Velanna huffed as she ran. "My magic is the result of hundreds of years of Dalish tradition."

Nathaniel's placid surface cracked a little, and he looked at Velanna, chagrined. He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself, averting his eyes and pursing his lips, as if he had to force himself to hold his tongue.

"This looks like it could be the place, boss," Oghren said as they rounded a corner, stopping to peer into the clouded windows. Tabris examined the weathered sign over the door, then seemed to look past it, focusing on something beyond what any of them could see.

"I can feel him," she finally muttered. "His blood."

Velanna shuddered. She couldn't yet sense whatever Tabris could, but the thought alone chilled her. Could the rest of them now sense Velanna as well, as if she were no different from one of the darkspawn?

Tabris rattled the door handle, which was locked tight. She summoned Nathaniel with a glance, and he withdrew a roll of little metal tools from his belt. On one knee before the door, he carefully, almost surgically, picked at the mechanisms in the keyhole. Minutes later, it gave, the lock sliding open with a click.

"I've some useful tricks as well," he said under his breath to Velanna, as he drew the door open. She bristled, her ears going hot.

It was dark inside; the only light was the moonlight that spilled in through the open doorway and the faint glow of torchlight from a chamber in the back of the near-empty warehouse. It would have been unremarkable, had it not been for the mage tied to a post and the two Templars standing guard over him. Their armor was scorched in places, sweat on their brows, but they seemed otherwise unharmed. The same could not be said for Anders, who had blood streaking from a cut on his forehead, his hair sticking to his face and escaping from its tie. He was gagged, his eyes red-rimmed and furious.

"I didn't expect to see you, Commander," said one of the Templars, a woman with dark hair and a cold expression. "I assumed he had deserted the Grey Wardens as well. You made a poor choice with this one. Anders will never submit, not to us, and not to you." Anders lurched where he sat, rattling the manacles that held him to the post. Velanna realized then what they were-- a Templar tool, enchanted to silence a mage's spells. She had heard of it before, though she had never experienced the effect. If Anders had any mana left, it had been rendered useless by his bonds.

"Anders is a Warden, by the Right of Conscription and Queen Anora's own decree. You have no authority to hold him," Tabris said. Her hand hovered near the hilt of one of her swords, her voice as deadly a warning as the blade itself.

"He is an apostate, and a murderer," the Templar hissed. "The Chantry's authority supercedes the crown in this matter."

"Is it the Chantry's authority, or yours?" The Commander's hand flexed, itching to move but not daring to break the standstill. Velanna's own fingertips were buzzing with unspent mana, the incantation for a hex perched on the tip of her tongue, waiting for the calm to break. "If I brought this dispute to Knight-Commander Greagoir, what would he say?"

That struck a nerve, and the Templar drew her sword. Tabris mirrored her, drawing two sharply curved longswords from their sheaths, but neither woman moved any further.

"The Grey Wardens have ever been a haven for criminals and maleficar," the Templar muttered. "I do not know how you inspire such loyalty, Anders, but it will avail you naught." With that, she charged, shield-first, barrelling towards the Commander.

Velanna loosed her spell, a misdirection hex meant to addle the mind-- it landed, and her foe stumbled just enough for Tabris to successfully dodge the charge, side-stepping and sweeping her blades around in a wide arc to strike at the woman's back. The room erupted into chaos, Nathaniel darting to the side to find partial cover behind another pillar from which he could fire upon the other Templar, whose attention Velanna had drawn. She managed to fire off a walking bomb curse, turning the second Templar's blood to poison within his own veins, before the air around him burst and surged outward, like a great cloud of mushroom spores made of pure light. The wave struck her, and she staggered, her stomach turning. It was like waking from a dream of falling, your body solidly on the ground as it lurched-- she felt the magic that was a second nature to her, like breathing, suddenly blink away for just a moment, flickering.

Nathaniel's first arrow sailed past her as she faltered, ricocheting off the Templar's bucket-like helmet and knocking him back, unwounded, but startled.

Near them, the leader was struggling between Oghren's hammer and Tabris' swords-- the Commander had landed a hit in the gap of her breastplate, though not a deadly one, but focusing on Tabris left her back exposed to Oghren's wide, heavy swings. A chainmail skirt protected her legs from Tabris' deft blades, but when Oghren landed a hit, the armor crumpled in, sending the Templar sprawling. Tabris took the opening, kicking the woman's knee out from under her, and she went to the floor with a shout.

Her subordinate leapt to her defense, rushing in to knock Oghren's hammer from his hands with his shield. Oghren staggered, but held his grip, losing ground with each of the Templar's blows.

Another arrow whizzed by, aimed straight for the Templar's eyes, but the eye slot in a Templar's helmet was wide and thin, and blocked entry to projectiles, magical or otherwise. Nathaniel's arrow did not hit its mark, but it did knock the helmet askew, sending the Templar stumbling to set it right again and giving Oghren an opening to crush his leg. He fell to the ground as well, shouting in agony, his helmet clattering to the ground. Velanna could see now that her spell had taken root, despite the cleansing he had tried to unleash-- his eyes bulged, the veins in his face and neck pulsing sickeningly. Oghren drew back his hammer, aiming to crush the man with one heavy blow, but before his blow fell, blood burst from the man's face in great pressurized gouts, from eyes and ears and nose and mouth, in a hideous spray of gore. Oghren recoiled, either disgusted or disappointed she had taken his kill. The walking bomb was not the most elegant of Velanna's spells, but it certainly got the job done.

The leader scrambled back from Tabris' advance, but she had lost the advantage. Tabris kneed her in the face, crushing her nose, and then, with her knee planted on the Templar's sword arm keeping her prone, and her sword raised to block the Templar's shield, Tabris slid her blade between the Templar's breastplates, and between her ribs. She died choking on blood, her eyes going dull, her arms falling limp to the floor of the warehouse.

The room fell quiet. Nathaniel lowered his bow, walking over to offer Tabris a hand. She was panting with exertion, her face and armor flecked with blood. Her eyes looked oddly hollow. She wiped the worst of the blood off her swords before sheathing them again, and finally took Nathaniel's offered hand, hauling herself up to her feet.

"His chains," she said, looking at Nathaniel and nodding towards Anders, who had been intently watching the fight from across the room. He looked no more relaxed now than he had when they arrived.

"There should be a key," Nathaniel said, and Anders reacted violently to that, his speech muffled by the rag stuffed into his mouth. He began to jerk his head in the direction of the second Templar. Oghren looked down at the bloody mess held together by plate mail at his feet, roughly shoving it to and fro and rifling through pockets and pouches. He emerged with a heavy iron key. Oghren unshackled Anders, who yanked his hands out of the manacles as if they were burning him, tearing the gag away from his mouth and grimacing as he wiped tacky blood and hair from his face.

"Believe me now?" Anders coughed, his mouth dry, his cheeks rubbed raw. "Andraste's flaming _fucking _ass." He stumblingly climbed to his feet, glancing across at the two Templars bleeding into the floorboards. He spat, and it came out bloody.

"Do you need healing?" Tabris asked.

"I can heal myself," he said, and his hands sparked to life, glowing blue as he cast a minor healing spell. As his hand passed over his brow, the shallow gash knit and healed, though the dried blood on his face and in his hair remained. "Thanks ever so much."

Tabris took a deep breath, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "We will discuss this later. Right now, we need to report this to the Guard."

_"Report it?"_ Anders gaped. "Are you _mad?_ They'll only--"

"Yes, Anders, report it, because they'll need an explanation for two dead Templars in their city, and unless _you _tell them about the phylactery, we did nothing wrong--"

"We _didn't _do anything wrong!"

"The amount of shit you got us all in tonight--"

"You're blaming _me _for what _they _did?"

"You took their bait! If you had obeyed my order, if you hadn't crossed that line, they would have no just cause, but--"

_"'Just cause'?"_

"You don't seem to understand," Tabris said, stepping closer to look Anders in the eye, "the position I'm in here. I'm Arlessa in name, but I'm here by the grace of the Queen and the goodwill of the people, and little else. If that changes? If the Chantry, the Banns, the _Guard_, decide I'm not worth the risk, I am _fucked_. This operation is fucked, our mission is fucked, your place here is _fucked_. Now, I am sorry this happened. I shut you down too harshly, maybe you weren't hearing what I was trying to tell you. But two rogue Templars is a problem we can handle. An angry Revered Mother demanding retribution for two slain Templars is not. We need to handle this like we have nothing to hide."

"You still can't even admit you were wrong," Anders said, shaking his head. "You can't admit I was right about them."

"You were right that these two Templars had a personal grudge against you, not that there's a conspiracy to take down mages in the Grey Warden ranks."

"Is it really so hard for you to believe that the Chantry could have a hidden agenda?"

"I know plenty about the Chantry's mistakes, and I'm not sorry these two stupid, short-sighted fucks are dead--"

"Finally, something we agree on."

"--but we need to keep a balance here. We can't act like our crimes, provoked or not, won't be answered for. Your recklessness put _everything _at risk."

"Crimes? Like him trying to kill you," Anders said, gesturing towards Nathaniel, "or her lighting a whole crowd of people on fire?" He pointed at Velanna. "I didn't even commit the murders they accused me of, _Commander_, and you want to lecture me about recklessness? Why don't you tell us about how _you _ended up here?"

Velanna opened her mouth to argue her irrelevance to their little spat, but the look on Tabris' face silenced her. Velanna had seen her angry before, and she had seen her shocked, but Velanna could not have told you where between those two Tabris was then. She was both, and far beyond them, and completely still.

"And what exactly," Tabris said, startling eyes unblinking, "do you know about that?"

"I know enough," Anders said, his eyes darting up and down, to Oghren and then back to her.

"Outside. Now. This conversation is over."

"I--"

_"Outside."_

Anders looked like there was nothing more he would like to do than continue to argue, but then he sagged, shaking his head and breathing out heavily.

"Fine. You're in charge," he said in tones that spoke clearly exactly how he felt about that.

They filed out, back into the open air of the city, and directly into a small troop of guardsmen, waiting for them with swords drawn and bows nocked.

"Good evening," the Commander said. "I need to report a crime."

\---

The Guard-Captain was possibly the only man in Amaranthine with a bigger headache than the Warden-Commander at that moment.

"He was conscripted into the Grey Wardens, the terms of which were agreed upon by Queen Anora herself just last month. The Templars violated that agreement, abducted him, and held him against his will with the intent to send him back to the Circle to be made Tranquil. They drew weapons against us, and we had no choice but to defend ourselves."

"I believe you, Commander, I do," the Guard-Captain said. He was fully armored, but his hair was tousled and his eyes still drooped with sleep. Evidently he had been off duty when their problem demanded his attention. "But I will need to make inquiries. The Revered Mother must be notified, and she will demand unbiased answers."

"She'll have them. We fully intend to cooperate with the investigation, and I'd be happy to speak to the Revered Mother once I return, but we're heading for the Deep Roads tomorrow morning, and we can't be delayed any longer."

"You put me in a very difficult position, Warden-Commander."

"I know. I'm sorry. And if it weren't of such dire importance to the safety of the arling--"

"Yes, of course, just-- please, if you could at least give me a written statement of your account of events. Something to… smooth things over, while we sort this out."

Tabris cleared her throat, shifting where she stood, then said, "I will. And I think it would be worth your time to send a direct inquiry to Knight-Commander Greagoir. I think he'd like to know that his Templars are disobeying the laws of the land in the order's name."

"As you say, Commander," the Guard-Captain said with a sigh. He produced ink and paper for her, and bid them all a good night, leaving the rest of his headache to be dealt with by his underlings.

The Commander hesitated for a very long moment before she turned to Nathaniel. "Nathaniel," she said quietly. "Would you mind…"

Her meaning seemed to dawn on him, and he sprung into action, nodding his assent before sitting at the desk in the Captain's office and preparing to write. Velanna watched this unfold, frowning quietly as Tabris began to dictate the events of the evening, carefully omitting the involvement of Namaya and the fabrication about the phylacteries. Nathaniel dutifully copied down every word she said in clean, flowing script. Tabris looked almost embarrassed, but she and Nathaniel had clearly done this before at least once.

Velanna was completely baffled. Did she truly have Nathaniel so well under her heel? What was the purpose of this?

She discovered it when Tabris concluded her account and the time came for her to sign the statement. Nathaniel stood aside, and offered Tabris the quill. She signed haltingly, in thick, blocky letters, and she had to check the spelling of her own titles more than once.

They were allowed to leave in peace after that, thankfully. After all the drama and bloodshed of the day, Velanna would be more than happy to sleep in the most uncomfortably soft bed the humans could dream up. They returned to the Crown and Lion in uneasy silence.

Outside, Tabris paused, facing Anders directly for the first time since they'd left the warehouse. "Will you be staying with us?"

Anders looked like he wanted to be offended, but it was a fair question, and he seemed to concede that. "I wasn't planning on running away," he said. "I've no idea whether you believe that." The Commander nodded, content to let it rest, for now at least.

The inside of the inn was much quieter, now, hours into the evening, and they found their rooms and their beds in equal silence. Velanna lay awake for some time, thoughts rattling around in her head like marbles, but exhaustion soon overtook her, sending her to a deep, heavy sleep.

\---

Days into their journey towards the Knotwood Hills, the tension had yet to subside. Anders was usually the most talkative and carefree member of their party, but he seemed determined not to answer anyone with more than a one or two word grunt unless there was a way to get a snide dig in on the Commander. Tabris never rose to the bait, though each time she paused a moment longer to compose herself before she returned to business. Nathaniel seemed unwilling to provoke either of them, and so he mostly stayed quiet, occasionally sharing odd bits of history or memories as they passed landmarks. The only one willing to go on as if nothing had occurred at all was, unfortunately, Oghren, who filled the long stretches of silence with a collection of Dwarven songs. The drinking songs and the marching songs blurred into each other so that Velanna could not tell the difference, if there was one. He was so loud, the ancestors Oghren swore by must have been able to hear his braying all the way down in their stone tombs.

In between the bouts of atonal singing, too many things occupied Velanna's thoughts. She had been so eager to toss away the reminder of her lost clan that she had given it to a flat-ear. It was only now catching up to her. She had worn the pendant for so long she had forgotten its presence entirely, and now that it was gone she felt its absence acutely. What would Ilshae have said, to see her giving away such a gift to a flat-ear? Would she feel anger? Resignation? Velanna was well-acquainted with Ilshae's disappointment. Tabris had watched her very closely at the time, but Velanna could not say how she had felt. They had disagreed, and Tabris had been hurt, but when she gave those elves her amulet, she had looked… curious. Velanna had surprised her. Was it a good thing?

Velanna was surprised by how much she cared that it was.

The thought made her uncomfortable, so she turned her mind back to a different, less personally troubling worry: the mystery of Nathaniel Howe's loyalty.

Nathaniel was Tabris' man through and through, that much was now clear to her, though the reasons why were still uncertain. She trusted him in a way that she rarely trusted Oghren or Anders. A month before he had sought her life, and now he wrote letters for her, her loyal servant. What must it have cost her pride, the first time she asked Nathaniel to do that for her? But Nathaniel had carried out the request with complete respect. Would he roll over as easily for any authority? Was it natural subservience, or was there some other reason he followed her command so readily?

Unlike the earlier days, when Nathaniel had taken her staring for confusion or curiosity and offered her friendship or whatever else, he now seemed increasingly aggravated every time he caught her examining him. He finally seemed aware that his overtures had not moved her.

Anders' words rang in her mind again. _Conscription_. He and Nathaniel had both been conscripted, and he had suggested that even Tabris had not chosen to become a Warden. The idea of choice seemed to be important to the Commander. She had even commended Velanna for hers. Had Velanna's choice been a true one, or had it been coerced by her circumstances? Nathaniel had been offered either death or service. Was that a choice? Forced into chains, do you struggle against them, or work within their confines?

The need to understand grew and grew, until she finally couldn't resist speaking aloud. "So you not only gave up on killing the Grey Warden who murdered your father, you actually joined the order," she said abruptly, and Nathaniel whipped around to face her as if she'd struck him a physical blow.

"Are you trying to pick a fight, Velanna?" She had yet to see him truly angry, and it sent a surge of adrenaline through her. She had not necessarily intended to antagonize him, but the steps were familiar and easy and almost relieving after such prolonged tension. "Baiting me like this is juvenile," he said, and averted his eyes again, trying to keep his focus on the road ahead of them.

"I just wanted to know how you felt," she said. She meant it honestly, but she didn't want to apologize, either. It had never been as easy for her to concede a point as it obviously was for Nathaniel.

"How do you feel knowing you murdered all those people because you were too arrogant to check your facts?" Nathaniel spat, refusing to look at her. Her heartbeat quickened, her blood rising. Yes, she knew how to fight.

"Warm and fuzzy," she said, a challenge, a taunt. _No, I'm not some scared little elf girl you can sway with a couple of cheap compliments. I'm the bedtime story your cruel father told you to scare you away from danger, a monster driven out by her own clan. That's what everyone thinks in the end. Better you admit it now._

"You're a terrible person," he said, and the confirmation was satisfying, in a twisted way. It hurt, and because it hurt, it felt like the truth. "And your ears are clownish," he added, one last grumbling dig, and that caught her off guard.

"What?" she yelped, covering her ears with her hands before she could stop herself, then dropping them again as her face burned. "Who's juvenile now?!" Nathaniel did not answer her, stubbornly ignoring her, his shoulders taut with frustration. Tabris looked back at the both of them with a look of mild alarm, as if she were wondering if she would have to intervene, but the conversation had ended.

Velanna thought obsessively on it for hours afterward, intensely conscious of her appearance. She had never been beautiful, and she knew this. She accepted it. But the passive fact of her plainness and the outright confirmation that she stuck out like a sore thumb among humans, even compared to others of her kind, made her recount every strange look a human had ever given her, and made her shrink a little every time she pushed a stray lock of hair behind an ear.

The feeling churned and churned, contradiction on contradiction. The human was right about her, and she _wanted _him to admit it, and she _hated _him for admitting it, and it shamed her. Oghren launching into another tuneless mess of a song that effortlessly drowned out her thoughts was almost a relief.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party descends into the Deep Roads, where they make a new friend and a lot of corpses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M.............................. ALIVE..................................
> 
> Hello. Hi. How are you? It's rough out there! I hope you're well. I have a chapter for you! I hope you enjoy it. I also hope it will be less than almost an entire year before the next one. If you're still here reading, thank you. I appreciate it a lot.  
Big thanks for [electricshoebox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/electricshoebox) for giving it a read-through!
> 
> We're getting into Kal'Hirol. Broodmothers and all they entail will be touched on, as a heads up.

Nathaniel had frozen in place on the top stair, peering down into the excavation suspiciously.

"I fell down a flight of stairs once," he said. His hand tightly gripped the flimsy railing. "They looked much like this particular set of stairs."

"Are you going to join the Order of Stairs, then?" Velanna crossed her arms, hovering behind him. If he didn't start walking soon, she was going to shove him down herself. "Given your history of allying with things that wrong you."

Nathaniel looked back at her in utter disbelief. "I don't understand you, Velanna. Do you hate me because my father was a monster, or because I failed to avenge him?"

"I hate you because I want you to climb down the damned stairs already," she said. "Some of us have a job to do."

Nathaniel turned away, his jaw working, breathing heavily and unsteadily through his nose. Swallowing whatever retort he wanted to make, he instead stepped to the side, giving Velanna a bow and a flourish and offering her an open path down the rickety wooden stairway.

"As my lady commands," he said, a mockery of his previous manners. Velanna grunted, storming past him. Creators, spare her the misery of days trapped in a darkspawn-infested tunnel with this infuriating shemlen fool.

The Commander and Oghren were already at the landing, Anders lagging a bit behind the group. "Looks like this section of the Deep Roads fell in," Oghren said, craning his short neck around to take in the massive structure half-collapsed around them. "Must've been built too close to the surface." There were thick tree roots bisecting sections of cracked stone. The remnants of the excavators who had been unfortunate enough to stumble upon this particular site were picked over and replaced with markers of darkspawn raiding parties; skulls crowned the tips of spears set into the ground, old blood staining abandoned weapons kicked into forgotten corners.

The sun was high in the sky, but this far down into the pit, the sun could not reach. The further they went down the tunnel, the darker it became. Velanna set the crystal embedded in her staff alight, and a moment later, Anders did the same, painting the high walls of the shattered structure in eerie greens and blues. A glint of light caught something in the corner of Velanna's eye, and when she turned, a pair of glittering white discs were blinking in and out in the shadow of a boulder. A burbling trill emitted from it.

"Deepstalkers," Tabris warned, stopping where she stood, and a whole troop of the creatures burst from their hiding places as if summoned.

They had fought a number of these vile little creatures in the mines, but familiarity didn't make them any more pleasant to look at. They went down relatively easily if one could reach them, but they were quick and agile, with their strange, long necks. They spat and hissed as they darted between the Wardens, dodging blade and bow. A well-aimed blast from Anders set a few aflame, and they careened wildly, screaming as they burned. Their distraction allowed the Commander and Oghren to dispatch them quickly. Velanna turned nature against the others; surrounded by winding tree roots, it was easy to draw blade-like thorns up from the earth. The creatures who escaped the piercing trap were badly wounded, their clawed feet bleeding. Nathaniel picked the last of these off with two well-placed arrows into their horrible fanged mouths.

"This close to the surface..." Tabris looked around at the carnage thoughtfully. "This is a real problem. We'll have to seal this entrance off."

"It's not gonna be as easy as the one back home in the basement," Oghren said. "This is just a cave-in, not a proper entrance. You're gonna need a lot of good masons to make a seal strong enough."

"Wonderful," Tabris said. "I'll have to ask Voldrik if he can spare any people. The Vigil needs those repairs, but this… Too many people will be in danger if the darkspawn have such easy access to the surface."

"Mages could probably help shape the stone closed," Anders said. "If that bastard Irving would give any of them permission." It was the most like himself he'd sounded in days.

"Well, I may have to write the Circle anyway," Tabris said pointedly. Anders sighed, rolling his eyes.

As they drew further down the stone hallway, Velanna started to feel something she couldn't quite define. It pricked at the edge of her consciousness, making her grit her teeth and clench her fists. It was like a wave of anxiety, but somehow outside of her, pushing in. Her blood thrummed. If she concentrated on it, she could almost hear it…

The others around her were just as tense, she noticed. That was when she realized what it was.

Darkspawn.

Tabris caught all of their attention, nodding her head down a turn in the pathway. She held up a hand, fingers splayed-- five of them.

The sound of armored feet pounding on stone broke the quiet, drawing closer and closer . They turned the corner, weapons at the ready.

The figure barrelling toward them could have been mistaken for a darkspawn, at first glance. It was small and stout, with horns winding from its head, and fully armored, not unlike darkspawn Velanna had been faced with before. But before the figure could get far, it was intercepted by a massive, helmed hurlock, which knocked it prone and began to drag it by the foot back down into the pit. The person, a dwarf, grunted and struggled, kicking free, scrambling back to retrieve the axe knocked from their grip when they fell, turning to face the darkspawn alone and planting their feet on the ground, unyielding.

They weren't alone, though. The Commander let out a hair-raising roar as she rushed in, blades drawn, signaling their presence. The dwarf hardly spared them a glance, but fell into their rhythm easily, rallied by the unexpected backup.

The darkspawn provided a much bigger challenge than the deepstalkers had, but they didn't have a mage, and Velanna counted that as a blessing. The Commander distracted the leader, drawing its attention to her and allowing their unexpected ally to slide in and hamstring it. From behind it, an archer was drawing to fire on them; Velanna didn't give it the chance, shooting a fireball that caught it and two of its scattering fellows in its blast. Oghren swept through, aiming for the knees, giving them easier targets to aim for.

At last, the hurlock leader went down, its head cleaved from its body by the Commander in one great pass of her curved blade. The sounds of battle ceased, the lingering adrenaline cooling as they caught their breath.

The dwarf sank to the floor, exhausted, tugging off the horned helmet to reveal extensive tattoos and short black hair pulled back tightly into three little tails. Velanna might have mistaken her for darkspawn even without the helmet-- black bars of ink carved through her features, skull-like in design and in effect. Her unmarked skin was very pale, and when her eyes blinked open from within the dark ink surrounding them, they were startlingly blue. She was breathing heavily, and favoring her side, resting with a hand on the hilt of her small axe.

"Well," she breathed, "that was… close. For a moment there, I thought I was _really_ about to join the Legion of the Dead."

"Are you all right?" Tabris asked, wiping darkspawn gore from her swords before sheathing them.

"I might have cracked a rib," the dwarf responded, "but it's hard to be sure. Everything hurts." If she was injured, it was hard to tell under all of the ink and armor, but she certainly looked on the verge of collapse. Anders stepped in to kneel beside her, peering at her closely.

"Could I have a look?"

"No, no, I'm fine. I just need to catch my breath."

"I'm a healer. I've got _maaagic _fingers," he said, and gave them a little wiggle to emphasize his point. The dwarf laughed for a moment, then winced at a sudden stab of pain.

"It's not much of a defensible position," Tabris said. "But we can rest for a few moments."

"I should probably go back," the dwarf said, "as foolish as that sounds… see if there's anything I can do."

Tabris shook her head, setting her pack on the ground. "You're in no shape to keep fighting."

"Can you get your breastplate off?" Anders asked. "It'll be easier to fix if I'm sure I'm not setting it back crooked."

"I… I guess so," she said, but when she twisted back to reach the buckles, she recoiled in pain again. "Agh, nugfucking-- ugh."

"What's your name?"

"Sigrun," she grunted, resting on her palms and allowing Anders to try to free her from her armor himself.

"You can call me Anders," he said. "Now how do you get these blasted things undone?"

"Here, let me do it," Velanna grunted, going to her knees next to the two of them, starting to feel around the breastplate for the buckles and unlatching them with impatient fingers. The dwarf's eyes widened when Velanna came closer to her.

"An elf! You're the first elf I've ever met. Do you feel honored?"

Velanna scoffed. "Why would I feel honored?"

"Your actions will influence my opinion of your race. _Forever_," she whispered ominously. Anders snickered, giving Sigrun a teasing wince.

"Oh. Thank you," she grumbled, feeling the last buckle give. "I needed more anxiety." Diplomatic outreach had never been a talent of hers.

"Glad to help," Sigrun chirped. Under her armor, her clothes were sweat-stained and worn, but there was no evidence of blood, and with her permission, Anders rolled up her undershirt to reveal a wide, violently purple bruise spreading across her thick midsection. Strangely, she seemed much more preoccupied with staring at Velanna, who began to sweat under the scrutiny.

"Your ears are so pointy," she said, "like an animal. Do they make it easier for you to hear?"

Velanna faltered. "Wh-- Are you-- are you saying my ears are big?"

Sigrun seemed to realize she had misstepped. "Not… _excessively _so…"

"You think they're 'clownish', don't you?" The anxiety Velanna had managed to forget came surging back. Her ears burned hot, and that made her even more uncomfortably aware of them.

"You know, now that you mention it…"

"I knew it! Don't talk to me." She stood abruptly, stalking away, letting Anders finish whatever he was doing alone. She passed Nathaniel, and avoided looking at him as hard as she possibly could, opting to face away from the group and pretend to sort through her gear rather than look at any of them.

"Word for the wise," Anders said. "Don't ask Velanna about her ears. Or elves. Or magic. Or anything, really." Velanna turned to yell a protest that would probably only confirm his point, but the Commander stepped in first.

"That's enough," she said, while Anders passed a faintly glowing hand over Sigrun's bruised ribs. "Sigrun, right? Warden-Commander Seriah Tabris."

"Wardens? My condolences," Sigrun said with a twist of her mouth.

"You're from the Legion of the Dead?"

Sigrun nodded. "There's something going on down there. I think the darkspawn are breeding an army. The Legion went to investigate, but Kal'Hirol proved too much for us. It was a massacre. And now I… I'm the only one left."

"Darkspawn army?" The Commander's jaw tightened. "Eradicating those is my speciality."

"That's what we thought," Sigrun said. Her voice had gone light, and her expression a little foggy. Anders seemed deep in concentration as he bled magic into Sigrun's side. "_'Oh, we'll just run in there, eradicate the darkspawn and be back in time for supper.'_ Well… whoops." Sigrun sighed, then winced at the movement. Anders took her shoulder to steady her before returning to his work. "The darkspawn have changed; they're smart now. They destroyed the Legion. I saw them taking some of the women, and I wasn't about to stick around for _that_."

Something cold and dark settled uneasily in the pit of Velanna's stomach. What did _that _mean?

Tabris looked grim, statue-still as she took in the dwarf's warning. Anders drew away his hands, the glow fading. What remained of Sigrun's injury was now a yellowed patch of skin spanning her ribs. She tucked her undershirt back in and twisted experimentally, testing her reach. Her face brightened, and she looked at Anders with unrestrained glee before she pushed herself to her feet and reached for her breastplate, which she replaced with practiced efficiency.

"If you mean to go back, let us fight with you," said the Commander. "I've fought beside Legion forces before. They went to great lengths to help us surfacers in return. I've a lot of respect for them. The least I can do is help you avenge them."

Sigrun tested her arm, swinging her hand axe in a small arc.

"Better?" Anders asked.

"Much! My thanks. That's a pretty handy trick you've got there, friend. And the first mage I've met, too!" Sigrun found Velanna isolating herself in the back of the group and a wide grin split open the dark lines of her geometric skull tattoos. "See, that's what a good first impression looks like."

Velanna flushed angrily, unable to restrain an indignant squawk. Was she to be trapped in a darkspawn cave with a whole party of comedians?

"Convenient, to have run into all of you when I did," Sigrun said. "The ancestors must have had a hand in this." She held her weapons at the ready, nodding for the Wardens to follow. "I'll show you where Kal'Hirol is. Safety in numbers, yes?"

Tabris nodded. "Glad to have you along."

"Excellent. With your help, destroying this nest is no longer impossible, merely… improbable!"

"Oh, an optimist then," said Anders.

Downward the tunnel wound, down, and down, and down, further than Velanna had ever willing gone before. The Architect had incapacitated them before drawing them deep into his underground chambers. Now she was increasingly aware of the amount of earth and stone that hung over their heads. If she had thought the Vigil confining, she felt now as if she were walking willingly into her own burial plot.

"You're the first Wardens I've met in person," Sigrun said, chattering happily as they marched, in complete defiance of the circumstances. "Though you hear all sorts of things about Wardens, in the Legion."

"It's a real day of firsts for you," Anders said.

"You're right! See, there's a bright side to every darkspawn massacre."

Velanna was suddenly concerned that perhaps Sigrun's rib wasn't all she'd cracked.

"They say you folks only come down here to die," Sigrun added, as breezily as if she were discussing the weather, or what she'd had for breakfast. "Which I guess makes you basically the same as the Legion, only we're already dead!"

"Already dead?" Nathaniel's expression resembled his usual stern look, but Velanna could see the growing frown on his brow even in the dim light. She felt briefly vindicated, that she was not alone in her bafflement, then immediately disgusted with herself for having agreed with Nathaniel about anything at all.

"Legionnaires are declared dead the second they join," Oghren said. "Same outcome as when anyone else goes on a Deep Roads camping trip, they just skip to the punchline."

"You and I spent a month in the Deep Roads together, and here we both are," said the Commander.

"Not sure how you survived the smell," Anders said.

"You get used to that darkspawn funk," Sigrun said. "Like mildew, but much more… aggressive."

"I meant him," Anders said, and gestured to Oghren, who obliged him by belching horrifically.

Velanna began to say, "I suppose it's too much to hope the rest of the walk might be a silent one." Before the last word left her lips, the tunnel opened up into a wide, sprawling cavern. Light burst through the ceiling through some manner of fissure, cold and blue-tinged. A great underground body of water slashed through the stone, catching the light and reflecting it back on the stone formations that dripped from the ceiling like so much wax. Clusters of unfamiliar fungi gathered in the damp. And rising up among the natural formations were great geometric structures, once proud and sturdy, left to crumble with time and neglect. The darkspawn had left their mark here, as well, just as they had on the surface, and their blight-stained markers jutted from ground on the outcropping where they stood.

"I don't know much about Kal'Hirol, except what the others from the Legion told me," said Sigrun, quietly compared to her earlier attempts to fill the silence. She looked out over the stone cavern almost reverently. "It used to be important, a center of learning for the smith caste. When the fortress was lost, a lot of what the smiths had learned was lost with it. They've never built anything quite like Kal'Hirol since."

Velanna, unfortunately, was unable to see whatever their new dwarven friend saw in the vast pile of crumbling stone walls. What sections of the once-proud underground city survived were blunt and blocky, inelegant and unfamiliar to her eye. The scale of it was about all she could find to compliment, though it was now a shadow of its former glory. The walls and archways lurched upward into the stone ceiling, far taller than she might have expected for dwellings built by a people of shorter stature than humans or elves.

The staircases and walkways had long ago been reduced to rubble, and the path leading down into the ancient city was little more than uneven stretches of dusty stone littered with broken bricks and boulders. Their guide let out a gasp and dashed ahead as they drew closer, and Velanna realized with a start that what she had taken for a pile of stone and darkspawn refuse was actually a person, armor-clad and writhing on the ground in pain. Sigrun fell to her knees, taking the dwarf's shoulders and cradling the badly bloodied form.

"It's Jukka," she said. "He's hurt. Bad."

The closer Velanna drew, the easier it was to see the blackened blood that flecked at the man's lips, which looked dreadfully blue in comparison. Tattoos very much like Sigrun's, but visibly faded and much older by Velanna's estimation, slashed across the man's face; underneath, the skin was sallow. His fists clawed and clutched at his own gut, his armor crushed like a sheaf of parchment. Velanna had seen the darkspawn corruption firsthand. This man would not survive his injuries, let alone with his mind intact. Jukka's eyes were red-rimmed and unnaturally bright when they blinked open at the sound of his fellow Legionnaire's voice.

"...Sigrun?" His voice was choked and breathless, forced out of his throat with as much effort as he could spare.

"Yes, it's me," Sigrun said at a whisper, and carefully dabbed black spittle from his beard. "Be still and try not to talk…"

"Is there anything we can do?" Anders looked about ready to try to heal the man, but the Commander stopped him with a look and a shake of her head.

"No," the man croaked, even as Sigrun tried to wipe the sweat and grime from his brow. "I feel my death upon me. And it is a sweet release…"

"No, I have bandages!" Sigrun pulled back to rummage in the pouches at her belt. "I can help—"

"You must listen! The… the broodmothers. They are breeding." Next to her, Velanna saw the Commander's shoulder draw back, her jaw tighten. The hair on Velanna's neck rose, prickling at her clothes. "I saw an… an army. You… you must… you must stop them. But… but beware the Children. They are abominations, even among darkspawn—" Jukka's eyes rolled, wide and senseless, and his breath rattled horribly in his lungs as he tried to force the words out.

"What, what children? _Whose _children?"

_"Forgive me—"_ Jukka jerked and writhed on the ground, his chest seizing, and just as suddenly, he went still. Sigrun sat utterly silent for a moment that stretched on horribly, the air settling quiet and heavy around her.

"Ancestors look kindly on you, brother," she whispered. She reached out a hand to touch the back of his head where it lay, face down in a growing pool of blighted blood, then thought better of it and drew back, pushing herself steadily to her feet. When she turned back to the Wardens, her face was resolute, only a trace of grief left to be seen. "We have to finish what the Legion started. Those broodmothers need to be destroyed."

"Forgive me if this is a foolish question, but have you encountered one before?" asked the Commander. Velanna looked between Tabris and Sigrun, taking in their apparent fear. The meaning of the dying man's words settled in like cold rainwater into cracks in a roof. She couldn't yet grasp the full depth of their situation, but the suggestion left her unsettled.

Sigrun nodded. "Just once. Only one. But it… it wasn't an experience I ever wanted to repeat."

Tabris sighed. "Oghren and I as well. Just one, and the battle was… We very narrowly escaped alive. Your friend's warning…"

"Multiple broodmothers. And unless we can intervene... more in the making."

"Pardon the interruption," Anders said, clearing his throat. "If you don't mind explaining what exactly a _broodmother _is?"

Velanna swallowed. She had an idea, and didn't relish having it confirmed.

"How do you think darkspawn are made, boy?" Oghren looked uncharacteristically tense himself.

"I guess it's too much to hope that it involves a loving union between a mummy and daddy darkspawn?"

"Let's just say there's a reason you don't let darkspawn take the women alive," said Oghren. "Unless you're a crazier than a sack of cats, like my ex-wife."

"Andraste's blood," Nathaniel swore, his face contorting in disgust.

"They infect them," Tabris said, her eyes unfocused and distant, remembering. "Force-feed them tainted flesh, until they become… something else entirely, something mindless. It's… it's unspeakable. And just one can birth dozens of darkspawn at a time. That's how they're created."

Velanna choked back a wave of nausea.

"Commander, you— If Seranni—"

"No. I don't believe they took your sister for that purpose, Velanna," Tabris said quietly. Velanna's heartbeat pounded in her ears.

"Would you have told me if you did?"

The line between Tabris's thick brows deepened. "Yes. I promise you, if I honestly thought that was a possibility, I would have warned you. She's retained her mind, and by all appearances, her autonomy. And the… the _physical _change...." Tabris closed her eyes, and looked for a moment like she was as ill as Velanna felt. "Please, believe me, you would know. You would not recognize her. She would not be your sister any longer."

"Broodmothers are usually well-protected. Even the younger darkspawn are hard to fight through in large enough numbers. If there's more than one broodmother here, there's no telling how many we'll have to fight our way through," said Sigrun. "We were already overwhelmed by the numbers before, but we can't just let them keep multiplying. We have to stop them. Whatever the cost. I hear that's a credo you Wardens swear by."

Tabris drew her hand over her face, rubbing at her jaw in thought. "Yes. But we're going to be smart about this. This is _not _a suicide mission, not if I have anything to say about it. If it looks like a losing battle, we retreat until we can muster up reinforcements." Tabris looked back at the group of them, steel in her eyes. "If it comes to it, at least one of us will need to make it back to the surface to make sure they can mount a defense. But I don't plan on letting them take a single one of you. Not if I can help it. _'In Death, Sacrifice'_ is a suggestion, not a rule. Got it?"

"_'Save your own skin'_ is a battle cry I can get behind," said Anders.

"I vote we keep Anders alive so he can keep healing us," said Oghren. "Nobody dies, everybody wins."

"As long as we're all agreed that the darkspawn need to die…" Sigrun adjusted her belt and stopped for one last tight-lipped glance at Jukka's prone body. She sighed decisively. "Okay. Let's move."

"Sigrun," Nathaniel said, solemn and quiet, as the party began to move again. "I know dwarves don't burn their dead as we do, but isn't there anything we can do to honor your friend's passing? It seems… cruel to leave him."

Once again, Velanna was loath to admit he was right, as she felt a pang of sympathy for Sigrun. Velanna had come upon her clanmates already long dead. She had not been forced to witness the agony of their deaths. It had taken long hours and more mana spent than she had to spare to dig their graves, and when they had finally found their rest, Velanna had been too spent to cry or grieve. She slept as the dead slept, and when she woke, she woke reborn, with vengeance in her heart.

But Sigrun had already set her path, it seemed, and she shook her head without a backwards glance. "There's no time. Sometimes we have the luxury, but in the Legion, we know most of us won't die clean and painless." She looked back with a wry twist to her mouth. "We're already dead. Our souls are already committed to the Stone. Our bodies just need some time to catch up."

Velanna shivered faintly. It reminded her too much of the end that waited for her when her borrowed time was up. The Taint had already claimed her life— it merely remained to be seen how soon the end would come.

Now that she new the worst form that end could take, she vowed that she would never allow herself to be taken alive.

The streets of the abandoned dwarven city were not as abandoned as they appeared— darkspawn scouts and straggling parties of warriors lurked in the shadows of every tomblike building. They began to fall into a rhythm, and Velanna found that the more she fought them, the more she came to understand the patterns of behavior one could expect from the previously unknowably monstrous creatures.

Through it all was the unsettling feeling of being watched. Velanna wasn't certain how much of that could be attributed to her growing ability to sense their foes and how much was simple paranoia. Every time a shadow passed out of the corner of Velanna's eye, she had readied a ball of flame, certain they were about to be attacked. Only once out of every handful of times had she been right. Conserving mana would be a difficulty if this kept up.

Sigrun was a welcome addition to their ranks. She was built like a cannonball, but she moved through the unfamiliar terrain more like a weasel through the underbrush, ducking and dodging, charging darkspawn and deepstalker alike with deadly accuracy. She and Oghren moved comfortably down here in the Deep, and while the Commander didn't seem to like it any more than Velanna did, she at least knew what one ought to expect. Velanna didn't think she'd seen a single green thing down here, and it left her off-balance. That was a full skill set of hers rendered utterly useless. She would have to turn her elemental focus toward stone to survive.

Their path alongside the underground river drew them closer and closer to what looked like the walls of some great underground castle, or perhaps the wall to a larger city, like the ones Velanna had seen the humans construct. A gate lead towards a shattered chain-drawn bridge that had crashed to the ground before it, and a troop of darkspawn lead by a towering hurlock crowded around it.

Velanna was startled by a terrifying roar, not from one of their enemies as she had initially assumed, but from Oghren, who charged more quickly than she had ever seen him move directly into the swarm, barrelling into the leader and scattering its thralls to the sides. His axe came around in a wide arc, taking limbs from the unluckiest of the bunch. Sigrun and Tabris were not far behind him, controlling the crowd and protecting each other’s backs. From their distance, Velanna, Anders, and Nathaniel followed their example, ranged spells and well-aimed arrows taking care of the darkspawn stragglers and those who managed to scramble away. But even as the pace of the battle slowed with the darkspawn's dwindling numbers, Oghren was a growling terror, his axe blackened with darkspawn gore.

When the leader fell at last with one great crack of Oghren's axe into its skull, it was only the difficulty of pulling it free again that seemed to calm Oghren's blind fury. The Commander barked his name as he attempted to dislodge his weapon, shoulders heaving and breath coming just this side of too fast.

"Oghren," she called again. "Oghren, it's done!"

Oghren blinked slowly, like coming out of an open-eyed sleep. "Right. Right. Thanks, Commander," he said, suddenly weary, and with one last great tug, pulled his axe from the hurlock's ruined skull. The Commander slapped him heavily on the shoulder, and they shared a brief look before she nodded, apparently satisfied that all was well.

Velanna watched Oghren a little more closely, after that.

The gate led them to an entryway with a grand staircase leading to the most intact structure they'd seen yet, a great door into what Velanna assumed was Kal'Hirol proper. The ground here was filthy; it was impossible to take a step without finding your boots at least half an inch deep in darkspawn refuse. The inner walls of the gate were lined with abandoned weapons and totems decorated with bones— darkspawn, dwarven, or otherwise, Velanna could not be certain. Sigrun surveyed the area, lowering her weapons and sighing wearily.

"The Legion got this far with no trouble," she said. "We got careless, and complacent, and stormed the main entrance, up those stairs. It was a disaster. The darkspawn were waiting. They turned the thaig's old defenses against us."

"Traps," the Commander said.

"And more. Ancient dwarven ingenuity, used by the very monsters it was intended to kill. We need to learn from the Legion's mistake. Avoid the main door."

"Is there another way inside?" Nathaniel had retrieved a handful of arrows from their slain targets, and was wiping the black blood from them with a scrap of cloth. Velanna hoped he had a pack full of rags. He would almost certainly need them, if he intended to keep his quiver clean.

"Most of the old dwarven fortresses had hidden side entrances. I bet this one does too," Sigrun said, with a glimmer of hope in her eyes. "We just need to find it."

"Where do you recommend we start?" The Commander regarded the gruesome surroundings with what appeared to Velanna to be stern resignation. Sigrun came to her side and gestured towards the side walls, which were constructed with great V-shaped arches and in which torches guttered and glowed with faint orange light.

"I've seen hidden mechanisms tucked into areas like these before. If we feel out way along—" Sigrun stopped, her grip tightening on her hand-axe and battered little dagger. In the shadows, low to the ground, something black and slick gleamed.

An ear-splitting shriek echoed in the stone courtyard, and from the dark recesses of some came skittering a swarm of creatures the likes of which Velanna had never seen. They were the size of dogs, with shelled insectoid bodies segmented like woodlice. There were perhaps a dozen of them, and Velanna's stomach dropped to see that each of them had, in place of pincers or some similarly appropriate mouth, what looked very much like a person's face, pale and bloated and corpse-like.

The party recoiled almost as one. Anders hopped back to positon himself behind Oghren and lobbed a fireball into the swarm reflexively. Velanna followed his lead, summoning a ball of flame of her own and launching it towards the twisted creatures. Two of them were propelled into the air, landing on their backs with a sick crunch, their numerous short legs flailing in the air as they burned. Some others had caught fire but seemed undeterred, trailing smoke as they charged onward.

Even the Deep Roads veterans among them seemed startled. The Commander hesitated a moment before she charged in to meet the creatures with her blades drawn, their two dwarven companions trailing just behind her. A broad sweep of Oghren's axe cleaved one of the creatures in two, the front and back halves continuing to wriggle and writhe for a few stomach-turning seconds before they curled in on themselves, dead. The Commander and Sigrun, meanwhile, seemed to be aiming for their heads. One good stab to sever the head, or at least crush the skull, seemed to dispatch them more quickly than trying to cut through the thick black chitin of their backs. Nathaniel managed to slow a few of them with an arrow through the eye socket. Velanna dispatched these with an ice spell that stopped them in their tracks, their legs shattering beneath them. No one spoke until the last of them had fallen absolutely still.

"I have never seen such darkspawn before," Sigrun said, kicking at the limp corpse at her feet. A closer inspection revealed that it was indeed a darkspawn's face that burst incongruently from the insect body.

"Why would we suddenly be seeing new forms of darkspawn? This isn't even a Blight." Anders seemed unwilling to step any closer to the dead creatures than necessary. Velanna couldn't disagree with him. She turned to Commander Tabris, searching her face for a sign that she was familiar with the things, that she knew what they ought to expect from them.

"Do these creatures change? Do they evolve?"

Tabris did not appear to have any more answers than they did. "That Legionnaire warned us— he called them 'Children'. Between the Architect, and the intelligent darkspawn… They may have learned how to create new forms of themselves." She seemed disquieted, her face lined with worry.

"No time to waste, then," said Sigrun, already moving towards the far wall. Tabris nodded, following her lead.

"Stay together, and keep an eye out. Don't allow yourselves to be separated from the group," she said.

Sigrun was evidently an old hand at deciphering abandoned dwarven technology. After some examination, she located the trick door they were looking for in one of the side panels that recessed into the wall. The lever was hidden in the mouth of a carving, which Velanna could not make sense of. Was it a dragon? Some other ancient and forgotten creature? Whatever the case, at its behest, a stone panel sank into the floor, opening a path into an entirely new section of courtyard. Sigrun poked her head through, looking around sharply, before she nodded back at the rest of them to indicate that it was safe to pass. Velanna wondered what the purpose of such mechanisms might have been in the thaig's heyday.

"This'll work perfectly," Sigrun giggled, pleased with herself. "The darkspawn will never see us coming!" Such deviousness in such small packages, these dwarves had.

"This is a little too convenient, isn't it?," Nathaniel said, and he followed them through the passage with an arrow already nocked.

After a cautious examination of the chamber they'd opened up, which thankfully revealed no signs of darkspawn foes other than structures that were long-abandoned, they discovered their back entrance. A pit opened straight into the earth, wooden beams and a hopefully very sturdy ladder stretching down into the darkness.

"This is dwarven-made, not darkspawn," Oghren said, peering over the edge. "Old as shit, but not ancient."

"Some unlucky miners, maybe," Sigrun suggested. "Well, Ancestors bless whoever they were for leaving this behind! Down the hatch." Sigrun began to climb down before anyone could discuss in further. Even the Commander looked slightly taken aback at their unstoppable little guide. Anders winced, watching her disappear into the black.

"Anyone else regretting their life choices just now?"

"Far too late for regret," Nathaniel said, and he secured his bow with grim determination, following immediately after Sigrun without another moment's hesitation. Tabris allowed him to climb down a bit before she did as well, bidding the others to follow behind her as quietly as possible. Velanna followed first, then Oghren, and finally Anders, who hissed and cursed under his breath about not having missed scaling the Tower until Velanna finally shushed him.

The ladder, thank the Creators, did not lead into a pit of spikes or a troop of darkspawn with swords drawn and fangs bared. It was an abandoned tunnel, one of many to be found in the Deep Roads, that twisted and curled upward until at last it opened into a hallway of ancient dwarven construct. A stone door lay at the end, unsettling in its solitude. Commander Tabris signaled to Velanna and Anders to extinguish their staves. With apprehension, Velanna complied, and the tunnel plunged into darkness.

Her eyes, Velanna was surprised to find, adjusted fairly quickly. As the pitch black ebbed and gave way to dim gray, she realized that the walls here were lined with pale blue lichen, glowing softly and providing just enough light that they would not be going completely blind. Velanna watched as Sigrun and Tabris had a silent exchange, and Sigrun crept ahead, impressively quiet in her armor, to slip through the door alone.

Velanna almost didn't dare breathe. She listened closely for a sound; a scream, the clash of metal, anything. Now that she was focusing, she could sense the presence of darkspawn nearby… It seemed like an age passed before the door cracked open again, and Velanna's knuckles tightened around her staff before she saw with certainty that it was Sigrun, alone and unharmed. The door closed behind her, and she scampered back to the group.

"We've come around to the main entrance. They won't be expecting us from the back. If we play it right and avoid the traps, we can get the jump on them," Sigrun whispered.

"I sensed around a dozen," the Commander said.

Sigrun nodded. "Neat trick! Don't guess you 'sensed' the golems, though."

"G—" Oghren let out a choked sound, then covered his mouth. Velanna wished he'd try that more often.

"How many? Are they active?" Tabris asked. Sigrun nodded.

"Two. Lit up and ready to pummel us into paste."

"Did you see any of the darkspawn holding a control rod?"

"I think the little one at the back was their master. A genlock." Sigrun described the layout of the room to them, how the door led to a platform where the genlock waited, the staircases on their side each with its own golem guard, and then the room below, an entry hall littered with pressure plates. This had been the killing grounds for Sigrun's Legion, where they had unwittingly stumbled into a lake of fire. Those who hadn't been burned to death had been picked off by the dozen darkspawn waiting in the alcoves with blade and bow. By Sigrun's report, the corpses had already been picked over and dragged off. Velanna's desire to see the creatures destroyed grew by the minute.

The Commander was very quiet for a while. She emerged from her silence with a plan.

Nathaniel would be the first to move out, and he prepared without question or complaint. He had some manner of paralytic agent tucked away with his things, a little black vial that he used to coat the head of an arrow.

"That wasn't the one meant for me, was it?" the Commander said, a little smile tugging at the scar that gouged through her upper lip.

"You have a very dark sense of humor, ser," Nathaniel huffed as he worked. "But no. The one meant for you was worse." He smiled a little to himself. "I'll save that one for the Architect." As quietly as possible, Nathaniel eased open the door, crouching low to the ground and scanning the room. He nocked the arrow, his eyes focusing, his arm drew back—

Velanna could not see it, but she heard the arrow meet its mark, a dull thunk that might have been mistaken for a falling rock, or an errant footstep. No outcry sounded. He quickly fired off two more shots, one after the other. Nathaniel turned back to the group and signaled them to follow.

In the next room, two darkspawn grunts sprawled out on the ground, dead, arrows protruding from their necks. Between them, a genlock stood statue-still, paralyzed, its living eyes frozen in rage. Sigrun moved in without needing to be told, drawing her dagger and cutting the creature's throat. Its blood ran in thick gouts to the floor, and Sigrun forced it down to the ground to avoid any further noise. A quick search of its rigored fists revealed their prize— a strange little wand engraved with runes that Velanna took for the "control rod" they sought.

The next part would require swiftness, and a great deal of mana. Anders had more talent for healing than stoneshaping, so it was Velanna who swallowed down a lyrium draught, letting the electric burn of mana suffuse through her down to her fingertips. Tabris called out a command, and Velanna could see the two golems stumble into life, their great stone feet pounding against the stairs as they dashed down into the main chamber. They moved more slowly than a living person would, and Velanna watched anxiously as the darkspawn waiting for them below spun and shrieked in alarm. As soon at the golems had cleared the stairs, Velanna pounded her fists to the ground, and then lifted, not with her hands, but with bursts of magic plunged into the earth itself. Pillars of stone shot up at the base of the stairs, a great jagged wall that blocked the path. She dashed to the other side, repeating the action, digging deep for any reserved power, and her body strained with the effort, but another stone wall launched itself into being just as the golems reached their destination.

Just one errant step, and the entire room below them exploded in flames. The heat was overwhelming, and Velanna turned away, her eyes aching. The golems tore through the flames, unaffected, seeking out their former allies and tossing them like ragdolls into the worst of it. Unnatural screams rose above the roaring of the blaze, and after a while, guttered out.

Velanna could not watch any longer. She had seen such things before, or course, and at the time, felt sick satisfaction. She ought to feel it again now. She ought to rejoice in the destruction of such pure, unquestionable evil, and was disquieted to find she could not.

It seemed an age before the flames died, though it was only a few minutes. Velanna shattered her stone walls with a bit of effort, and they surveyed the chamber, looking for survivors or anything else of import, but it seemed that what darkspawn had not been burned to death had been bludgeoned by the golems. Anders held his nose, grimacing at the carnage.

"For the Legion," Sigrun said to herself, scanning the room with grim satisfaction.

The golems did not make for subtle scouts, but they did certainly come in handy. Velanna was starting to feel the strain of having used her magic so often in one day, but the golems were nearly tireless in their destruction. They descended deeper into the thaig, guarded against any darkspawn in their path by two walking battering rams. The darkspawn they encountered in the next chamber seemed to assume the golems were on their side until their skulls were crushed in a stone fist.

"Wish we could keep those," Anders said, admiring the golems from a safe distance.

"I feel a little strange about it, to be honest," said Tabris. "Not that I can afford to pass up their help, but after everything we discovered with Shale…"

"No time for sentimentality, now, Warden," said Oghren, then seemed to catch himself. "Commander." He swallowed. "For a second there, I forgot what year it was."

"Now who's sentimental?" Tabris looked at Oghren for a moment, the faint smile that turned up the corners of her eyes fading into thoughtful silence. "Let's break for a minute. Sigrun, when's the last time you ate anything?"

Velanna's stomach had not quite settled, and it lurched at the thought of food. She knew she must be hungry, it had been hours since they broke their fast, but she imagined she would have to force herself to eat.

Sigrun looked just as thrown as Velanna felt. "I… I'm not sure I remember."

Tabris set her bulging pack down on a stretch of stone that wasn't coated with darkspawn corruption or lichen. "If you need supplies, we've got enough for two weeks, you're welcome to share ours."

Oghren sat down heavily on an overturned pillar. "Well, if we're sharing…" He tugged a skin full of spirits out of his pack, sloshing it around with a leer. "Hey girlie, you ever tried Dragon Piss?"

Sigrun looked suspicious. "I'm assuming that's not literal."

"Try it and find out."

A bit separated from the rest of the group, Nathaniel had settled against a wall to clean his gear, his bow stretched out across his lap and a hard cracker stuffed in his mouth. The bow was a surprisingly elegant design, for a human weapon, gleaming pale wood with an almost blue tint. It strongly resembled ironbark, though Velanna knew it could not be. She had never heard of a human smith who was able to work the material adeptly.

Nathaniel stopped working to take a long drink from his waterskin. The hair humans grew on their faces had become darker as they traveled, and she noticed when he tilted his chin up that the thick growth stretched all the way down his jaw and onto his neck, where his throat bobbed. How strange.

"Is there something you wish to say to me, Velanna?"

Velanna startled, her face burning, as she realized Nathaniel had caught her. _Yes! _she thought_. Why are you here? How do you face this danger so eagerly, if this is your punishment? How is it that Tabris trusts you so much, she can make _jokes _about your murder attempt?_

"Don't be ridiculous," she said, and turned away. The others were trading Oghren's drink back and forth as they ate. She had no desire to put her mouth on anything Oghren's mouth had touched, but she felt the slight sinking sensation of having missed out on something anyway. "If you must know, I was looking at your bow. Is it ironbark?"

When Velanna turned back, Nathaniel's hard glare had softened somewhat. "Heartwood. It was my grandfather's. Seriah... returned it to me."

Velanna's skin prickled. "So she's 'Seriah' now? The two of you are that close?"

"She has offered her friendship to me," Nathaniel said, his expression darkening. "I have vanishingly few friends left, so yes, I suppose I value that a great deal. She forgave me, and I—" He looked down, returning to the task he had given himself. "I realized she had done nothing that required my forgiveness."

Velanna did not know what to say to that. Nathaniel had been offered a chance by the Commander, just as she had, and it had changed his view so drastically he had thrown aside his need for vengeance. How could a person change so much in so little time? She simply did not understand him.

Did she want to?

"Eat," Nathaniel said after a few minutes had passed. Velanna was irritated with herself to have been caught off guard yet again.

"What?"

"Eat something. We'll be moving again soon, and you've been using your magic a great deal. You're going to run yourself ragged."

Velanna frowned down at her hands. "I don't need you lecturing me on— I know how much strength I have left."

But as usual, Nathaniel could not leave the subject alone. "Even people who haven't been battling heinous cave-dwelling monsters all day need to eat, my lady." That drew a sharp glare from her, and he sighed, frustrated. "Fine, don't eat. You needn't listen to any advice from me."

Velanna scoffed even as she pulled a pouch of nuts and dried fruit from her pack, and was almost irritated to find that the distraction had settled her stomach. Breakfast seemed to have been centuries ago, and even travel rations tasted like a feast. Damn her tainted blood.

Next to her, Nathaniel began to laugh. "Is that all it takes? If I tell you something, you'll do the opposite? That's good to know."

"Quiet, _shemlen_," Velanna said around a mouthful of blueberries. "You're ruining my appetite."

"While you're at it, don't drink this," Nathaniel said, and threw her the waterskin. She very nearly missed catching it, and, making sure he got the full effect of her most withering look, she drank fully half of it in ten unbroken gulps, which only made him laugh harder until she threw it right back. It caught him on the jaw, and he winced in shock at the impact.

She ate as much as she dared, avoiding looking at him again for the duration of their rest. Seriah may have understood him, enough even to trust him, but that didn't mean Velanna had to. At least not any further than she needed to for their purpose here in this blighted thaig, or for the sake of her mission with the Wardens. And at least her stomach was no longer churning, her throat no longer dry. The water had not been sweet, but it would keep her alive long enough to make it to tomorrow. Velanna had relied on people who did not consider her a friend her entire life. She was certain she could manage it now.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wardens delve deeper into Kal'Hirol. The sedative properties of elfroot indirectly help save Sigrun. Velanna just wants to take a bath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, HELLO AGAIN? Why am I back so soon? Well, a it's combination of having a long weekend to do nothing but write, renewed vigor for Dragon Age after the DA4 news drop, and my _desperately_ wanting to get to the next part of the story. :D
> 
> Big thank you to [electricsboebox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/electricshoebox), as always! Enjoy.
> 
> Warnings: this chapter will contain descriptions of gore, darkspawn-related body horror, and so on. Also, weed jokes.

Two days deep in the tunnels, a city of ghosts greeted them.

This place seemed the most intact, the most untouched by time in the thaig thus far. The darkspawn had yet to spoil it. The only things that lived here now were spiders and other such vermin, but the city's inhabitants continued to walk its streets as though their end had never come.

Sigrun was captivated, dashing from room to dusty room, careful not to disturb the long-abandoned dwarven remains. The ghostly figures had voices, but no solid forms. They could laugh, and yell, and cry, but one passed through them as one would a cloud of smoke, insubstantial. Sigrun watched each of them play out their final moments, their last battles, with an expression Velanna had only seen on the faces of those in mourning.

Velanna had not known much of the durgen'len and their past before now. What she had learned made her look at her dwarven companions in an entirely new light.

In a tucked-away chamber, nearby the bones of a Paragon, the Commander was hard at work transcribing a list of names that had been engraved on a stone marker. She'd a battered little journal and a charcoal pencil in her pack, and she filled pages with thick lines of her blocky script. She and Oghren had a spirited discussion about how best to alert Orzammar to their findings before she'd silenced him in order to concentrate.

Sigrun watched the scene with absolute solemnity. Velanna looked more closely at her face, at the raised edges of the brand on her cheek, disguised as it was by the black ink of her tattoos. The people here had died for a doomed civilization, in the vain hopes that they might be seen as people rather than cast-offs. And the tradition continued, if Velanna understood the purpose of Sigrun's Legion correctly. It made Velanna furious to watch this woman's heart break for a society so eager to discard her.

Velanna could only restrain herself for so long. "Why are you so loyal to your Legion of the Dead?" she asked, keeping her voice low. "And to Orzammar? Don't they hate you?"

Sigrun turned to her. She had maintained a jarringly cheerful disposition for most of their journey, but this city of the dead had dimmed the sparkle in her blue eyes. "They do. I'm casteless, so I'm worthless to them."

"And yet you'll give your life away to prove… what?" For such an annoyingly upbeat person, Sigrun had nearly no stories of fond memories to tell, and had named no friends beyond those she'd lost in the Legion. To die for their sakes, Velanna might have understood. To die for Orzammar's sake, to give her life in service to a people who had no love to spare for her…

Velanna thought of Ilshae, and felt it like the twist of a knife.

"That I…" Sigrun had turned her gaze downward, to look at her own clasped hands. "That I'm more than they say I am?"

"You don't owe them anything," Velanna said. They had given Sigrun nothing, and cast her out to die. Why should she want their respect when they had done nothing to earn hers? She had done more with nothing than most did with every privilege. "You don't need to prove your worth to them."

Sigrun sighed, a little smile of resignation on her lips. "Maybe I need to prove it to myself."

If Velanna ever found herself in Orzammar, she was going to give those dwarves an earful.

"I think I owe you an apology," Sigrun said after a moment. When Velanna looked back, she was smiling a little less sadly.

"Why?" Did she mean the night before, when it had been Velanna's turn to keep watch? Velanna had been in the grips of a nightmare when Sigrun shook her awake, and Velanna had nearly punched Sigrun right where her broken rib had freshly healed, thinking her the hideously distended form of a darkspawn broodmother. Velanna had never seen one before, and did not know if the reality matched the horror her dream had conjured, but if it was anywhere close… It did not bear considering.

"When we first met, I said something pretty rude to you, didn't I?"

Velanna had very nearly forgotten, but she burned all the way to the tips of her apparently excessively large ears to remember it.

"Yeah, that was shitty. If I want to prove I'm better than just some no good, dirty, foul-mouthed duster, I guess I ought to start by not insulting perfectly nice people. So: I'm sorry."

Velanna sputtered. All she could think to say in response was, "I'm not _nice_."

Sigrun just smiled that infuriating little smile of hers, like Velanna was telling her a joke. "If you say so."

"Your standards for niceness need some reconfiguring, my fine dwarven friend," Anders said, plopping himself down to the ground on Sigrun's other side. He dusted his knees off and popped a dried cherry into his mouth. Velanna turned her head away to avoid proving his point by saying something deeply unkind to him. Unfortunately, that meant she ended up catching Nathaniel quietly watching her from the corner.

He did not immediately look away. Well, then, neither would she, for she had caught him looking, and had nothing to be ashamed of. What was so fascinating to him anyway? Did he feel guilty for thinking her ugly? He needn't bother. More than being insulted, Velanna hated being pitied, and she lifted her chin a touch in defiance of it.

The veil was too thin down here. Velanna almost didn't dare cast, and was grateful the darkspawn seemed to have avoided the area so that she wasn't given much cause to. Perhaps they could sense the precarity of the divide between reality and the Beyond as well as she could. She could see that under his flippant exterior, Anders was as tense as she was, keeping his magic tightly in check. They'd enough to deal with without ripping a hole in the veil and unleashing some enraged spirit.

She wondered if the ghosts here were born of their proximity to the lyrium in these tunnels, or if they were lesser wisps taking dwarven shape. Battlefields drew wisps like flies, the sheer number of deaths wearing the barrier thin. 

She would not have long to contemplate such things, however. As they drew away from the site of Kal'Hirol's last stand, signs of the darkspawn began to reappear. The stone walls grew wet and shapeless, first with lichen and other fungi, and then with signs of darkspawn corruption. Flesh-like growths coated the walls and ceilings, and in some places, disgustingly, even the floors, squelching under their boots like seaweed on a jetty. They huddled close together in the middle of each pathway, none of them wishing to accidentally brush against the walls.

When they encountered darkspawn again, they found them warring amongst themselves. Velanna had no idea if this was common or not; darkspawn were united in their mindless need for destruction of all living creatures, but these were no ordinary darkspawn. There seemed to be those among them of the same sort that had served the Architect, talking and thinking darkspawn, barking orders in search of someone or something called "the Lost". They seemed content to kill each other and move along, provided the Wardens stayed out of sight, but necessity dictated that they wade into a few of the skirmishes. Whatever their allegiance, both sides of the conflict found their ends under Warden blades.

Even with the darkspawn invasion, the master smiths of Kal'Hirol had left an indelible mark. Steel golems, even more intricate and impressive than the golems they had left behind in the higher levels, guarded stone tombs, silently vigilant just as they had remained for ages. Discarded tools revealed enchantments of a sort Velanna had never seen, lyrium woven expertly into the metal. The heat down here was almost unbearable; in one chamber, lava spouted from the ceiling itself, a river that had flowed since the dwarven kingdoms were whole, and would continue to flow for many years yet. She had a newfound respect for the accomplishments of the Children of the Stone, diminished as they might have become.

Deeper and deeper still they went. Velanna had no idea how far down they might be now, and it only seemed to keep going. How deep could one go before it ended? It seemed a foolish question to ask, but Velanna had not seen the sky in more than three days, and it felt as if the endless weight of all the stone above her head might collapse on her at any moment, or a fissure might open and spill lava into the passageways, killing them all in moments. Steam vented out of strange growths spouting from cracks in the ancient walkways, making her clothes stick to her back and her hair curl against her face.

She was grateful at least that only her boots were worse for wear, as far as being coated in darkspawn muck. Tabris, Oghren, and Sigrun had all been in close combat with the creatures, and there was only so much good a cursory wipedown could do. Water was only encountered by good fortune in the Deep Roads, and it wasn't safe to disrobe long enough for a proper washing. The Commander's hair was a stringy mess under her helmet, not quite long enough to be pulled back, nor short enough to keep out of the way, and Velanna could see how it vexed her. Anders usually had his long hair tied back anyway, but he fussed about not being able to shave, scratching irritably at the pale hair bristling on his chin. Even Nathaniel had given up the slightly fussy way he kept his hair, tying it into a functional knot at his neck. Black strands of it came loose around his face, sticking to the tacky sweat and grime, and his beard had grown in, shadowing his jaw darkly.

Sigrun, on the other hand, appeared to be totally used to this lifestyle, savoring water when they came by it, but steadfastly refusing to complain in the long stretches between. She supposed Sigrun and Oghren both were accustomed to living under miles upon miles of rock, as well. Oghren, a man already in the later years of his life, had not seen the sun until just the year before. Sigrun had in fact never seen the sun at all, and presumably never would, which seemed an incomprehensible way to live, to Velanna. She was dizzy with heat and growing claustrophobia, but just the thought of seeing daylight and taking in the natural warmth of the sun made her ache with longing. The thought of a cool, clean bath seemed an almost absurd luxury.

Velanna had been so lost to her daydreaming about several hours alone with a fine selection of scented soaps she almost didn't see how the hallways had contracted, growing closer and less navigable. When she took notice, it was because the growths of darkspawn corruption had grown almost impassably thick. They were forced to climb over thick ropes of it, hardly daring to touch it but unable to pass without doing so. _Rosemary-scented_, Velanna thought. _When I get out of this. Rosemary and mint and lavender._

"I… I think the walls are _breathing_," she muttered, and she saw Anders shiver just ahead of her.

"Shh," the Commander said, stopping them where they stood. She looked around, alert, and Velanna tried to match her focus, as exhausted and battered as she was. She had taken her anxiety for a logical reaction to being trapped in an oppressively tight passage buried under miles of stone. Now she began to realize it was that feeling again, that pressing sensation, the creeping dread that forewarned of darkspawn. She strained her ears, listening. The walls heaved and spouted gusts of foul-smelling steam, but that was nothing unusual by now. What was beneath that? Where were they?

The sound of crunching, as loud as if it were coming from Velanna's own mouth, startled her so that she thought her heart might stop. Before she could do more than cry out, everything was dark, her face pressed hard into the oozing darkspawn muck under their feet. She choked, unable to breathe. Searing pain at her back and her ribs burst white and hot in her blindness. She wanted to scream, but darkspawn corruption filled her mouth. She recalled the Joining, how the blood had made every inch of her heave, how her mind had screamed for her to stop, and she thrashed, trying to break free of whatever held her. Something pierced her shoulder and let out a high sound like glass shards driving into her ears. For one terrible second, certainty washed over her: she was going to die, struggling, choking on filth.

Just as suddenly as it had overtaken her, the weight pinning her to the ground was wrenched away. She was still in agony, but she could move, and she rolled to her side, coughing up thick ribbons of muck. She tried to open her eyes, but they were caked in the same thick mess, and she wiped at it frantically, squinting through tears and filth.

The others were engaged with more of those twisted Children from before, though these seemed larger, their skittering little legs lengthening so that they towered over the dwarves in their party. Seriah was not much taller than either of them herself, and she had been surrounded on all sides by the bulk of the pack. She swept her blades around in an arc, trying to keep space between herself and the monsters to avoid being overtaken as Velanna had. A wave of magic washed over Velanna, and she looked over in surprise to find Anders pointing his staff in her direction. He winked. She couldn't find it in her to be irritated; cool, soothing, healing mana suffused her body for a moment, the worst of the pain abating long enough for her to get her bearings.

"Thank me later," he hollered, and turned back to focus his attacks on something behind her. She sat up to find Nathaniel struggling to hold at arm’s length one of the same creatures that had overwhelmed her. His bow had fallen to the ground at his feet; he kicked and thrashed beneath the monster, shutting his eyes and swiveling away to avoid the teeth that threatened to take off that proud nose of his.

Velanna groped blindly for her staff, gripped it tightly, and thrust it out before her without pause. Above Nathaniel, the creature went silent and still, its skin crusting over, grey and lifeless as a statue. It was still heavy, but it was no longer fighting, and Nathaniel shoved it away, scrambling backwards. Velanna drew more power, begging the stone around her to heed her command, the focus crystal glowed brilliantly green—

A boulder fell from the ceiling and stopped as if caught by some unseen hand, then launched itself with force at the petrified darkspawn abomination. The reaction was instant— it shattered into rubble at Nathaniel's feet.

Velanna breathed out heavily, then winced at the pain in her back making itself known once more. Nathaniel turned, his eyes wide at the sight of her, but she didn't have time to react. Digging her staff into the ground, she forced herself to her feet, turning back to the others who were still fighting for their lives. Several of the creatures lay dead at their feet. Oghren's helmet had been dislodged, and he'd a terrible gash across his forehead, blood streaking his face so that his entire head appeared to be bright red, unbroken except for the terrifying white of his eyes. Velanna threw a hex at the one trying to claw its way over Sigrun's back, and it lurched, landing on its side and allowing the Commander to catch it in the belly with a heavy downward swing.

The one Oghren was engaged with suddenly froze, ice snaking across its chitinous back and forming a brittle shell. One hit from Oghren's axe shattered it, leaving the vulnerable flesh beneath exposed. He struck again, and again, and again. The creatures were dead, the sounds of struggle quieting, except for the sound of his axe repeatedly striking ruined flesh.

"Oghren," the Commander barked, her breath short and ragged. "Oghren! Oghren, _snap out of it!_"

The commander clasped his shoulder, and reflexively, Oghren swung for her. A ragged gasp tore out of Velanna's throat, but Seriah met his axe with her swords, crossing them in an X and wrenching the weapon from his hand. That seemed to startle him awake, and he blinked rapidly. His own blood was caked in his eyelashes.

"You—" He grunted, as if he had forgotten her name and her title both. "Shit, I— I'm sorry, Warden, I didn't—" His shoulders drooped, exhaustion coming over him like a sudden weight.

"Are you here?" Oghren huffed, but nodded slowly. "You're hurt." Seriah pushed hair away from Oghren's brow, inspecting the gash above his eyes. He waved her away.

"I'm fine, quit your fussing."

She had heard Tabris speaking to Oghren quietly the night before, when they made camp inside an old tomb, of all places. (The door was sturdy, and it was free of corruption, so Velanna supposed the old dead dwarf would just have to be content with sharing.) Oghren had been gruff and reluctant, but he had spoken of someone named Branka, the woman Velanna gathered must have been his infamous ex-wife. It had only then become clear that when he said "ex-wife", what he meant was "deceased". Oghren was an unbearable pig on the best of days, but knowing what he and the Commander had been through together, it became easier to understand why his mind seemed to be miles away every time they went into battle, and why the Commander had taken such care with him.

"How about you?" Tabris turned now to Velanna, stepping over the gore heaped at her feet to see to her. "I was worried until I saw you up and casting again. They came out of nowhere... I usually have more warning than that."

Velanna's shoulder burned, and her ribs as well. She couldn't comfortably turn to see the damage, but she was certain her new armor was a ruin, if the creature had bitten deep enough to gouge flesh. Her entire front, from head to toe, was coated in grime. She'd need a hundred baths to wash away the disgusting feeling.

"Get me out of this accursed tunnel and I'll be better," Velanna said, and winced at the sound of her own voice. She normally didn't find the sound of her voice all that pleasant, but it was even worse now, thick and rough with abuse.

"Everyone needs to clean up a little so I can do better than a mid-battle patch job," Anders said. "A quick heal will do in a pinch, just to keep you from bleeding out in the field, but you'll need something more thorough if you don't want to look like raw mutton come morning."

Velanna saw that Nathaniel had retrieved his bow, and aside from a few scratches and a lot of dirt and grime, neither he nor it were any worse for wear. She was a little surprised to see him retrieve a dagger from the neck of the creature that had overtaken her. He wiped it off on the leg of his trousers, which were already too caked with gore to be saved, and tucked it into his boot. Her eyes met his, something undefinable passing between them. It was possible she owed him her life, though she hadn't known it when she rescued him in turn.

Nathaniel nodded, a tentative gesture. She turned away, eager to find the exit.

They found a relatively clean stone chamber to rest a moment in. It was small, but it was better than being encased on all sides by fleshy darkspawn cocoons, and once inside they all took the time to wash some of the worst of the filth and blood from their faces. Oghren emerged from the layer of blood caking his face looking like a person again, though the bags under his eyes had only grown darker. Velanna gargled a mouthful of water and spat it out, sad to waste it but in no hurry to swallow any more of the viscous filth coating her body than she already had. Anders had already set to healing Oghren's gash. Velanna gritted her teeth, wincing as she began to peel off her jacket and armored tabard, then the black leather shirt beneath those.

She almost laughed as she thought of the armorer, Wade, and his fervor for fitting her a new set of armor. It seemed he would have his chance, if they made it out of here alive.

"Here, let me," Sigrun said, and picked up the waterskin, bidding Velanna to sit down while she wet a rag and began to swipe blood and grit out of the puncture wounds in the meat of Velanna's shoulder. Velanna hissed— Sigrun was no gentle touch, but she was thorough. The water was blessedly cool on her skin, and she shivered as it rolled down her back. Her thin undershirt was already damp and tacky with sweat, and probably filthy, so a little bloody water couldn't possibly hurt it.

While Sigrun cleaned her back, Velanna attempted to more thoroughly clean her face, scrubbing away at her jaw and down her neck. It wasn't perfect, but it was so much better than nothing. She wished she could submerge herself in a lake and just let herself soak until all the impurity had leeched away. She was going to jump in the first clean body of water she saw as soon as they were on the surface again. She sighed just imagining it.

When she opened her eyes again, slightly cleaner and much happier for it, Nathaniel was watching her again. She blinked in surprise, and this time, he broke first, looking away in a hurry, as if it had been an accident. He was still very dirty, his face pink with exertion. She held up the rag and waterskin in her hand.

"Looking for these?" He turned back just in time to catch them as she tossed them his way. He looked almost lost before he glanced down at his hands.

"Oh— thank you," he said, and then, more quietly, "Velanna."

Velanna scoffed, waving him off. "You need it," she said. She could only imagine how much of that poisonous ichor was caked in his beard, and it was impossible to tell by the color alone. Disgusting.

Anders did a fine job healing her wounds; by the time he was done, the skin was whole and unbroken, the ache almost entirely gone. They rested a while longer, taking another perfunctory meal and catching their breath before they reluctantly strapped back into their gear and climbed back out into the darkspawn-infested tunnels. Velanna's armor was a wreck in the back, to be certain, but most of it was still whole, and it would serve until she could exchange it for something more suitable.

The tunnels opened up at last, and though the exit seemed merely to be a wider, cleaner tunnel, Velanna would happily take it. It was some kind of underground aqueduct, she guessed, as the stone pathway was flanked on either side by trenches of water, and she could hear water running far up ahead. They paused to refill their skins and have a drink, then set right back to marching up the pathway. It seemed to stretch on forever, but as they dew further down, Velanna began to feel an itching at the back of her consciousness. Closer, and she could hear what sounded like murmuring... 

The Commander took the lead with Sigrun directly beside her, sending Oghren around to watch their flank, and began to step closer more cautiously, listening closely. The end of the tunnel opened up into a large room, the source of the sound of running water. Inside it was a golem larger than any moving creature Velanna had ever seen, larger even than one of the rare darkspawn ogres, steel-plated and glowing with runic flame. It slammed something to the ground and held it aloft in its great, burning fist— a figure. After drawing closer, it became easier to see that it was darkspawn. Standing before it, another darkspawn taunted and jeered.

_"The Architect sends many, but does not come himself? He is a coward."_

The Commander looked back, met their eyes. The _Architect _had sent darkspawn to war with other darkspawn?

_"I will kill you, and he will know that he has failed to destroy the Lost. He will know that the Mother will tear him apart."_

There was little time to wonder who the "Mother" was before the golem moved, lifting the darkspawn it held in both of its tremendous fists and—

Velanna covered her mouth as it tore the creature in two, as easily as one might skin a rabbit, its innards spilling out onto the wet stone floor. Velanna thanked the Creators that the sound of the rushing water was loud enough to disguise the sound.

_"Who comes now,"_ growled the other figure, peering its pale, beady eyes down the tunnel towards them. _"I can feel you, but you are no darkspawn. What trickery is he planning?"_

There was no sense hiding, now that they had been seen. Cautiously, holding ranks as long as the Commander bid them to, they came closer. Velanna could see now the twisting staff the darkspawn leader held. An emissary, then.

_"You will die," _it sneered, _"as all who serve the Architect will die. The Mother demands it!"_

"Take the mage out first," Tabris said quietly. "Avoid the golem as much as possible. If we can get its control rod—" The darkspawn lifted its arms and mana surged through it as it began to cast. Tabris shouted, "Don't let it cast!" before breaking formation, charging at it with her blades drawn. Sigrun barrelled in after her, trying to flank it. Velanna, Anders, and Nathaniel hung back, skirting the edge of the room, trying to stay out of melee range while Oghren remained to guard them as the golem stomped toward them, each massive metal footstep shaking the ground they stood on. Velanna looked past her feet and realized, stomach lurching, that it was merely a metal grate over rushing water. Great spouts of it burst from pipes in the walls and left the whole room damp and misty.

In a blink, flames erupted in the center of the room, a swirling storm of fire that rose halfway to their heads and stretched twenty feet across the center of the room. The golem was unaffected, and in fact seemed to thrive in the unbearable heat. Velanna pressed her back to the wall. They were sitting ducks, if the only place they had to run was back down the damned aqueduct. Across the room, Sigrun let out a cry— the flames had erupted near enough to where she stood that it had knocked her flat, her legs caught in the fire, her trousers beginning to catch. She scrambled backwards, trying to get to the water, but the golem seemed to have taken notice of her struggling, and slammed a fist in front of her path.

"Get away from her," Velanna snarled, and hurled a misdirection hex at the towering construct. It recoiled, its armored head shaking like a fly was buzzing around it. At the same time, Velanna saw Anders move next to her, and a barrier of sorts appeared, forming over Sigrun's legs like an overturned bowl. Anders thrust his staff downward, and the barrier collapsed on itself, the fire extinguished and leaving behind only a cloud of smoke and some badly singed armor. Velanna goggled. "What spell was that?"

"Little trick I learned in the Circle, tell you about it later," Anders chirped, dashing to the side just in time to avoid the golem, which had regained ts bearings enough to grab one half of the discarded darkspawn corpse and hurl it at them. Velanna leapt away with a cry, right into Nathaniel's side as he was lining up a shot. He caught on after a moment's stumble, grabbing her by the sleeve and tugging her along as they ran back towards the entrance.

"Take cover by the wall," he shouted over the sounds of battle. She wrenched her arm away, but followed his strategy, keeping close to one side of the entryway just as he did the other, lining up his shot again and trying to land a hit on the mage, who was actively grappling with the Commander, staff against swords. Something clanked against the grates— Oghren, who was beating the handle of his greataxe against it to draw the golem's attention.

"Over here, you hunk of junk," he shouted, raising his axe in the air. "Come get a piece of this!" It started to stomp towards him, great rumbling steps that made the floor quake. "Okay, sparkle-fingers, any time now!"

From the opposite side of the room, where Anders had dashed, a burst of cold— ice blanketed the floor in a sheet running from Anders' staff to the other side of the room, catching the golem just as it stepped. The brute lost its bearings, its feet going out from under it almost comically, and it landed on its back with a quaking boom. The force nearly sent Velanna to her knees, and she clutched the wall tightly. On the other side, Nathaniel had gone to his knee willingly. He draw back, loosed an arrow, and it sailed across the room, over the golem's prone form, to strike the darkspawn emissary in the eye.

The shot was impressive, but it was not enough to kill the beast. It screamed in pain, hurling a ball of lightning at the Commander and knocking her to the floor, where she twitched and jerked horribly. Sigrun rolled, apparently not so encumbered by the burns on her legs that she couldn't keep fighting, and with a well-aimed slice, hamstrung the the mage, sending it to its knees. She leapt up, digging her dagger into the beast's back savagely, and it screamed once more, recoiling strongly enough to send Sigrun staggering.

The Commander was down, but not out, and Velanna saw her stagger back to her feet unsteadily. Seeing the darkspawn on its knees before her, she didn't hesitate another moment, crossing her blades before her and cleaving its head from its neck in one powerful motion. Then Velanna could see them no longer, because the golem was righting itself, pushing itself back to its feet and swiveling its great helmet-like head, looking for a new target.

"Commander," Oghren growled. "Commander, it's still going…"

The death of its master had not stopped the golem. Perhaps it had no master at all, for Oghren's voice drew its rage just as easily as it had before. She hoped Tabris and Sigrun were searching the corpse for a control rod, but if they'd found one, she saw no sign of it yet.

"Oghren," Velanna shouted, hoping he could hear her across the din. "Get its attention! Try to get it under one of those spouts!" She raised her voice even higher, feeling it strain and crack, willing her voice to carry. "Anders, ice! Under its feet, again!" She had an idea, but it would need help if it was to make a dent in the construct at all.

"Do it," Velanna heard, from somewhere behind the golem and its firestorm. The Commander? Without delay, Oghren dashed for the nearest water spout, stomping on the grate and beating his axe against the wall, hollering at the golem to draw it closer. At the same time, Anders fired a second blast of cold, an even thicker layer of ice streaking across the floor. The golem was relentless, but not intelligent enough to avoid the trap, and it went sprawling, its hulking body crashing helplessly into the wall. Oghren threw himself to the ground, crawling out from under the canopy of the golem's body, dragging himself by the holes in the grates until he could scramble to his feet and truly run. The water cascaded over the golem, spraying violently as it blocked the stream.

Without a moment's hesitation, Velanna gathered as much mana as she could manage and released it in one great burst of electricity. The golem jerked violently, its flaming runes extinguished, its joints beginning to smoke… but it did not stop, its massive hands scraping and scratching at the wall, trying to upright itself. Her heart sank. A living foe might have been destroyed, but she had no idea how to defeat a being made of steel that thrived on fire.

But then the water from the spout began to slow and freeze, and so did the water sluicing from the great beast's back. The ice snaked its way into the creaking joints, into the helm that formed its head, down over the arms and legs, cracking and shattering and slowing it with every moment, until at last it let out a strange, unnatural roar collapsing to the ground, the enchantment broken. Its eyes darkened— dead, if such a being could truly die. With the death of the mage and its minion, the firestorm guttered out and extinguished. Her shoulders sank with relief.

They reconvened by the limp body of the emissary, Anders giving Sigrun's legs a once-over while she thanked him for his quick thinking.

"What was that trick?" Velanna thought to ask, remembering the stunt he'd pulled with the fire-dousing barrier.

He looked up from his casting, looking a little sly under the exhaustion. "Sort of an unholy union of a barrier and force magic," he said. "Never done one that big before! Usually it's more..." He cupped his hands together to show the small scale. "I was a little afraid I might accidentally crush your legs, Sigrun. Glad to see they're intact!"

Sigrun snorted. "Yes, my legs and I appreciate that."

Velanna frowned, trying to understand the value of a miniscule fire-extinguishing spell. "Do they use magic to douse candles in your Circle?"

"Not exactly." Anders smiled almost sheepishly. "Say, for example, one wants to partake of… substances," he said. "And perhaps one finds oneself in a situation wherein one needs to quickly extinguish a fire and perhaps contain any lingering smoke or aroma of said substance…"

"You can't be serious," Nathaniel muttered. Velanna frowned even deeper.

"They don't allow mages to smoke?" Pipes were common enough among the Dalish, though she didn't care for smoking herself.

"Not what I was smoking, they don't," Anders said. "Not when you're fourteen, anyway. Got a day in solitary for that one. You have to get creative to avoid getting caught. Which is ridiculous, by the way, it's a widely available herb with medicinal properties—"

"All right, thank you," Tabris said, clearing her throat. She looked ashen and exhausted. Velanna could only imagine how it felt to be electrocuted, and for her to be on her feet afterwards was a testament to her constitution. Anders rolled his eyes at her chastizing tone. "That is—thank you, Anders, that was very well fought. Well fought, all of you."

"Are you well, Commander?" Nathaniel asked. He looked just as tired as any of them, and while his voice was always a little on the rough side, it had grown even more gravelly with exhaustion.

"I'll be fine," she said, though her eyes softened a little towards him. "Let's move. If we stop to rest here, I'm afraid my legs might not want to keep working."

They looted what they could from the dead darkspawn, hoping for some sign of who or what it answered to, but the most worthwhile thing in its possession was its staff, which was of surprising quality and power given that it was a darkspawn weapon. Most darkspawn mages Velanna had encountered cast without the aid of a staff. If they had staves, they tended to be twisted, jagged things without the benefit of a good quality focusing crystal. This one was almost beautiful, with golden serpents carved into the shape of it. Velanna would not have been surprised if it was a relic predating this darkspawn minion by many years, stolen from a slain foe or otherwise looted from an abandoned battleground. The Commander gifted it to Anders, for his part in defeating the golem. Velanna did not begrudge him this, though the frustration of her plan not having the effect she intended grated on her. She was practically no use at all in this dwarven tomb.

"You did very well back there," Nathaniel said, as if he could read her thoughts only far enough to contradict them. She scoffed, avoiding his eyes.

"Don't patronize me," she said.

"I wasn't—" Nathaniel sighed, perhaps too exhausted to argue. "Fine."

Signs of the darkspawn corruption were evident in the hall leading out of the aqueduct chamber. The floors grew filthier and filthier, and the sense that something lay ahead grew the further they walked. Velanna was growing more confident in her ability to discern the darkspawn call from her other senses the more she used it, but she had never felt anything quite like this presence before.

Her heart leapt into her throat when suddenly, from the fleshy-growth oozing its way into their path, a cluster of tentacles burst forth. Oghren reacted the quickest, cleaving them all in two with a sweep of his axe, and the protrusions fell to the ground, flopping and convulsing like fish, gushing black blood until they finally stilled.

Sigrun and Tabris's eyes met. "One's up ahead, then," Sigrun said. Tabris nodded.

"A broodmother?" said Anders apprehensively. Oghren jabbed one of the limp tentacles with his axe.

"Watch out for those things," he said. "They can extend them pretty far. Farther than you'd think. Anywhere you see signs of the corruption, you watch out for a big, juicy tentacle."

Velanna had prepared herself for another great battle, based on the warnings from those of their party with firsthand experience. She had not been prepared for what she saw in the pit, nor for the smell. She gagged, holding her nose and covering her mouth, her stomach turning, and looked away.

"Creators," she choked. Nearby, Sigrun had her eyes shut tight.

"I...I'm afraid to look too closely," she whispered. "What if one of those creatures was someone I once knew?"

The Commander clasped her shoulder, her eyes fixed on the sight below them. Three of the creatures, from what Velanna had glimpsed. It was their great fortune that the monsters were out of reach, too deep in their birthing chamber to attack them, with no signs of their cursed offspring anywhere closeby.

Anders, however, had turned his focus to the ceiling. "What in Andraste's blessed name is _that?_"

Velanna followed his gaze to see… lyrium, an unbelievable quantity of it. Why on earth was it suspended from the ceiling like that?

Oghren whistled. "Looks like an old pulley from one of the mines," he said. "Loaded up that steel case and tried to haul it up. Must have been left behind when the thaig fell."

Nathaniel was squinting up at it as well. "It looks… it looks overgrown, somehow, like it broke out of the container. Does lyrium _grow?_"

"That much lyrium could kill an army," Anders said, a little awe-struck.

The Commander's focus had turned from the broodmothers to the chains keeping the pulley locked in place. She licked her lips. "Or three broodmothers," she said.

"Are you out of your skull?" Anders head whipped around to face her, his eyes wide. "I mean, yes, it'll probably kill them all. It might just as easily kill us and take down the whole chamber."

"We can't let them keep breeding," Sigrun said adamantly. "If you want, I'll stay down here to break the chains and make sure they die."

"No," the Commander said. "I said I intended to get everyone out. That includes you, Sigrun."

Sigrun shook her head. "I'm dead anyway, Warden! This is what the Legion does!"

"We can handle this," she said, and her tone brooked no argument. "How do we take down the chains? Can we get them hot enough to melt with magic?"

Velanna looked unsure. "I— I've never tried."

Oghren hefted his axe up onto his shoulder. "I've broken blades before, Commander. Let me give it a swing."

The Commander contemplated this plan for a moment. "If it ruins your axe, we'll get you a new one when we get back to Vigil's Keep."

Oghren's face broke out in a wide grin.

"Everyone," Tabris said, "Get back in the hall, away from the ledge. Mages, barriers up. Oghren, as soon as that thing falls, you _run_."

"Aye, ser!" Oghren crowed.

They took cover under the strongest barrier she and Anders could conjure, making use of what little liquid lyrium they had left in their stores, while in the main chamber, Oghren hacked at the chains. To Velanna's great surprise, one of the links bent, crushed against the stone pillar beside them, distorting with the weight until it snapped entirely. The store of lyrium swayed precariously, narrowly avoiding colliding with the ceiling, but it held.

Oghren ran to the other side, ready to swing again at another chain. Velanna's breath stilled in her lungs. He hacked, great powerful swings of his battered broadaxe. The lyrium lurched again, the low blue light dancing and swinging with it. With a cacophonous jangling, the chains gave way. Oghren ran, as quickly as his stout legs would carry him, and he dove down, into the barrier she and Anders held as strongly as they could just in time for the impact. The light was blinding, and Velanna shut her eyes tightly against it, gritting her teeth and willing her spell to hold until the sound of explosion and darkspawn screams faded and died. The ground lurched, but the platform held, and the ceiling didn't collapse. It just remained to be seen if the broodmothers were dead.

She and Anders dropped their barriers, and she breathed in, heaving with exertion. She blinked her eyes closed, trying to sense the presence she'd felt before.

She could not.

Sigrun was the first to her feet, peering over the edge at the destruction. She breathed a sigh of relief. "We did it." As the others got to their feet, Sigrun came back to clasp hands with the Commander in gratitude. "If the rest of the Legion were alive, I know… I know they would honor you in some way."

The Commander gave Sigrun's hand a firm shake. The relief was evident on her weary face. "I honor their sacrifice in turn. I'm sorry for your loss."

Sigrun smiled a little sadly. "I used to wish I could get away from the others. Now I'm all alone and I just want them back. Isn't that silly?"

Velanna's heart ached. She took Sigrun's meaning all too well.

"What's curious is that we seemed to be caught between two... factions of darkspawn. I've never heard of such a thing." Sigrun frowned, trying to make sense of it. "The darkspawn are by nature vicious, and they have always fought amongst each other. But for there to be two organized factions… this is something else."

Tabris released Sigrun's hand. "I've… met the Architect."

Sigrun looked like she didn't quite know how to parse that statement. "You… 'met' him? What's a meeting with a darkspawn like?" She put on what sounded to Velanna's ears like a poor mockery of Nathaniel or Anders' Fereldan accents. "_'Ello, I'm a darkspawn, would you like some tea?_"

The Commander couldn't help but cough out a laugh, as tired as she was. "What will you do now, Sigrun?"

"Oh, I'll probably disappear into the bowels of the Deep Roads, never to be seen again." Sigrun shrugged. "One good thing about the Deep Roads is that you never run out of darkspawn to fight."

"Perhaps you would consider coming with me?" Tabris looked quietly hopeful.

It made sense. Sigrun was an experienced fighter, especially when it came to darkspawn. If she was so intent on dying, what did it matter to her if darkspawn or the Joining ritual took her? Velanna frowned at the thought of that. No, Sigrun was sturdy, and she had somehow survived facing the darkspawn for this long without succumbing to the Taint. She would make a very suitable Grey Warden, if she chose to.

"Go… with you?" Sigrun looked as though the idea had never occurred to her, and Velanna supposed it wouldn't. How long did most Legionnaires survive, once they had been initiated? "But that would go against my vow," she said, "and my plan to disappear into the deep, unmourned and forgotten."

She certainly took a cavalier view on the value of her own life. More than her deathwish, it was her casual flippancy about it that stunned Velanna. Velanna herself had not expected to survive this quest. That at least she could understand.

"You're a fine soldier," Tabris said. "The Wardens are in great need of those. You are welcome, if you would join us."

Sigrun's blue eyes grew a fraction wider. "Be a Grey Warden? Is that allowed? Can you be both part of the Legion and a Grey Warden?"

"You could be the first," said Tabris.

"And I'd be more effective at killing the darkspawn, won't I? Ha!" Sigrun looked positively giddy now. "How does one say no to this?" She shook the Commander's hand again, more vigorously. "I will follow you. You seem an all-right sort, and I'm better off with you at my back than alone." She smiled widely, the bars of her skull tattoos splitting open with her grin, and while she wouldn't inspire anyone with her good looks, she was certainly enthusiastic. "Let's go then! The darkspawn await!"

Sigrun's energy seemed renewed. Velanna had no idea where she kept it all. Just watching her made her feel tired.

They were blessedly unharassed as they made their way out of the broodmothers' pit. Stairs and passageways drew them upwards for what seemed like miles, and eventually back out into an open cavern Velanna recognized as being the other end of the one they had first descended into almost a week past. It wasn't the surface, but she still could have cried, for she knew now how close they were to fresh air and freedom.

"Now, you might be in for a bit of a shock," Oghren said as they drew closer to the exit. "I got a little dizzy myself, my first time seeing the sky. I just want you to know, if you need something to hold onto, old Oghren's here to—"

Sigrun was not listening at all. She had already torn off running, out past the shadow cast by the stone fissure, up the ramshackle stairs and into the sunlight.

It was disorienting. Velanna had no concept of what time it was. The sun hung low in the sky, red and glowing like an ember, but one could not yet be sure if it was rising or setting. Even still, she relaxed to see it, all the held tension of the last few days bleeding out of her as her shoulders fell.

"Maker, _thank you,_" Anders said. He fell to the ground and kissed the untainted earth, then spat, brushing dirt from his lips. "Blech. You know, it sounds so dramatic when they do it in stories, but it's really just gross."

Sigrun whirled around, taking in the sights. Velanna didn't think much of them— it was a rocky quarry, half-destroyed and populated mostly by dry underbrush and a few spare withered, wind-beaten trees. But Sigrun had never seen the sky until this moment, and the vastness of it sprawled out before her, seemingly endless.

Velanna glanced back at the sun, lowering her gaze to avoid hurting her eyes. It was indeed beautiful. The pinks grew fainter as the horizon stretched into pale periwinkle, gentleness to counter the Sun's vengeful red.

"Elgar'nan, Eldest of the Sun," she prayed under her breath. "Thank you for guiding me safely back to your light. I continue to faithfully walk your path."

Now she just needed the All-Father to guide her to the nearest bath.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigrun sees the stars for the first time, Velanna gets a human-shaped headache, and Nathaniel addresses a mob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand we're back! I had some fun here, I feel like I got to do more of the stuff that makes me rub my little hands together like a raccoon and go "hee hee hee". I hope you enjoy! Thanks so much for reading, and for all your sweet comments, they make me so happy.
> 
> Thank you also, [electricshoebox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/electricshoebox), for the readthrough. (If you like Fallout 4, she's very close to posting the final chapter of her extremely meaty Deacon/MacCready enemies to friends to lovers slowburn and you should definitely check it out if that's your jam.)

Seeking a place to camp away from the main road, the Wardens came upon a fishing shack by the river after a day's march toward Vigil's Keep. They had kept the same pace that had tested Velanna's endurance underground, but somehow being back on the surface made the walk very nearly pleasant. It would have been more so had it not been for the sweat and grime that clung to her, an odor and general aura of discomfort that sapped her willpower. To see shelter and running water and the promise of food all in one place could have made her cry with relief.

Only Sigrun seemed unaffected by the journey, her undampened enthusiasm for every new sight propelling her along with the lightness of an airborne soap bubble. At one point, in a digression about the sky and whether or not it was truly endless, Sigrun had questioned Commander Tabris about birds for at least an hour, until the Commander threw her hands in the air with a laugh, apologized, and said that she had told her literally every individual thing she knew about birds. Then Oghren made a comment about bushtits, and the whole conversation went even further sideways.

They looked around the fishing shack for signs of an owner, but the place appeared to have been untouched for weeks. Tools and nets had been left behind, and after a few minutes' investigation, Tabris gave into her exhaustion and said, "Right of conscription. I don't know if that's how it works, but I'm conscripting the damn fishing nets, if they don't like it they can send a petition."

Velanna was not much of a hand at fishing. Her mother had taught her the fundamentals of hunting, and of foraging, but she never had much cause to learn the trick to catching a fish. Anders apparently knew a fair amount from his own childhood, though he protested that he had been twelve years old when they took him to the Circle and had not fished since that day, and to therefore take his advice with a grain of salt. Together, they managed to set a net in place in the river before they began the difficult work of cleaning a week of filth from their bodies.

They dug a pit and dragged a basin of water to the shore for the purpose of cleaning away the darkspawn blood without tainting the arling's drinking water. Once they were clean enough to consider bathing safe, they split off into two groups. Sigrun, Velanna, and Tabris went to the water first, stripping down and eagerly submerging themselves in the slow-flowing water. The riverbed was muddy and slick, the water cold enough that it would make Velanna's teeth chatter if she lingered too long, but it still felt unbelievably good to finally wash all the grease and grit from her hair. She could only get her underclothes so clean, but a few minutes with a bar of plain soap was better than nothing, even if at the end she would have to put them back on wet and let them dry along with the rest of her.

"Can I borrow that?" Velanna glanced over to see Sigrun holding her hand out.

She had been a little surprised to find that while more than just Sigrun's face was tattooed, as far as she could tell none of her other tattoos had any connection to the ceremonial ones on her face, unless there was some Legion of the Dead tradition involving large-breasted women she was unaware of. (That one was on the back of her furry calf, and quite crude, compared to the finer work on her face. At least she chose a better artist for the one people had to look at every time they spoke to her.) Though she was stouter, like the Commander she was sturdily built, with hairline scars from enemy blades criss-crossing over her forearms.

Velanna handed her the soap, trying not to look too blatantly. Sigrun, however, had no such reservations.

"You're even skinnier than I thought," she said in amazement, scrubbing away at the stains in her clothes. "I heard elves could get pretty skinny, but they really weren't kidding!"

"Please, by all means, comment on every aspect of my appearance," Velanna said, wringing her undershirt out violently enough that she was in danger of tearing a seam.

"Shit, I did it again," Sigrun said sheepishly. "Sorry. I think I owe you payback now. Okay. You can ask me whatever kinda question you want about me, or dwarves, if you want."

Velanna scoffed, dismissing it as a foolish idea. However, as the quiet dragged on, Velanna couldn't help but remember something that had been nagging at her.

"...Is it true that dwarves are born as rocks?"

A few feet up the river bank, Tabris barely restrained a snort. Next to her, Sigrun's face contorted.

"_'Born as rocks'?_"

Velanna's face burned hot. "I knew it," she hissed. "That slimy, foul-breathed toadstool! _'Pink rocks are girls, gray ones are boys.'_ Ugh, and I almost believed him!"

"Who? Oghren?" Sigrun's cheeks gew round with glee. "You believed _Oghren?_"

Velanna growled, wringing as much water out of her clothes as she could and yanking them back on before she wrapped a blanket around herself and stomped back to their camp. Yes, of course it seemed an obviously foolish idea _now_, but it wasn't as though she'd had the opportunity to converse with many dwarves before Oghren!

While the men took their turn down at the river, Velanna sat by the fire they'd built and gave her armor a good, hard, therapeutic scrubbing. The padded jacket was a loss, but the mail tabard could be salvaged, and her boots were caked with gore. Travelers they'd passed on the road had been startled by their haggard appearance. Maybe once their armor had been seen to, they would not look halfway to being darkspawn themselves.

Less than an hour later, Anders came tromping up from the river, hair damp and loose about his ears and his blanket draped around his neck like a cape, with a net that bulged with perhaps a dozen small trout clenched in his fist. A very pleasant surprise indeed, and Anders looked like the cat who'd caught the canary. Tabris volunteered to gut and clean them, a task Velanna was all too happy to let her handle.

"Are you sure you don't need assistance, Commander?" Nathaniel had returned, just as waterlogged as Anders, though somehow his state of undress shocked her more. If she had thought the hair on his chin dark and thick, she need only have looked at him now to correct her assumptions. It was everywhere, spanning his broad chest and all down his belly, slicked to his skin from his dip in the river. She would think all humans so hairy if she didn't have Anders right there for comparison. So it was just Nathaniel then. How very bizarre. She couldn't imagine what that could possibly feel like. Would it be coarse and thick like a bear, or softer and finer like halla fur?

She stopped herself staring before she could think any other disgusting thoughts. That tabard could stand to be scrubbed again. She might have missed a spot.

The conversation was quiet but lively around the fire that night, and roasted fish was a welcome addition to the plain rations they had relied on in the Deep Roads. They set their clothes out to dry as they ate, bundled into their blankets or sitting close to the warmth of the fire. Oghren was a little too well acquainted with his spirits, which wasn't unusual, but Sigrun seemed to know how to handle his brand of inappropriateness well, which she plainly informed the rest of them was born of experience with drunks and scoundrels, one of the most prominent being her uncle back in Dust Town. Sigrun also reportedly had four little nieces and nephews, the oldest of which had loved nothing more than to hide her boots in increasingly unlikely places.

"I had a terrible reputation for lateness, and it was all because of that little brat," she groused, but she was still grinning. "Ancestors, it's been years. She's probably grown by now."

Nathaniel smiled softly. The firelight was kind to his complexion, making him appear warm and soft-edged. Anders had taken the opportunity to shave, and was now as clean-cheeked as before, but Nathaniel had not yet troubled himself with the task of reining in his week-old beard.

"My little sister can pretend to be as sweet as she likes, but Delilah was once the terror of Vigil's Keep," he said. "When we were children, she put beetles in my blankets. She would laugh to hear me shriek."

"Seranni liked to put sap in my hair," Velanna said. She had done it once when Velanna was five and Seranni was three, and again when Velanna was eight, right when she had finally managed to grow back the hair her father had sheared away while she wailed and cried. Seranni had been too young to know better the first time, but she had certainly done it on purpose the second time. "She also pushed me into an icy river. _Twice._"

Nathaniel winced sympathetically. "Ouch!"

Twice was an exaggeration— Seranni had pushed her in, realized the trouble she had caused, attempted to get her back out, and failed, dropping Velanna right back into the frigid water. Velanna had been sick for a week… but Seranni had also shamefacedly brought Velanna hot tea every time she so much as had a sniffle for years afterward.

"Yes," Velanna hummed thoughtfully. "Why did I want to rescue her again?" She glanced up to find Nathaniel watching her, that same soft expression she had spotted earlier crinkling around his eyes. Velanna pursed her lips against an answering smile. When Tabris launched into an engaging tale about the time her little cousin, aged four, had snuck away during the alienage's Satinalia gathering and eaten her weight in cake before anyone could catch her, Velanna was relieved she had an excuse to look away.

Sigrun volunteered for first watch, too keyed up about her first night on the surface to sleep. Velanna, exhausted to her bones, was sure she'd fall asleep as soon as her head touched ground, but Nathaniel had apparently elected to stay up as well. She could hear them on the edge of the camp, Nathaniel's soft murmurs and Sigrun's exclamations. Velanna strained to hear them.

"...why it's called 'the Oak'. See how that line of stars forms a branch?"

"Not really, no. Just looks like the sky has freckles to me."

Velanna frowned, rolling over to see Nathaniel and Sigrun craning their heads back while Nathaniel gestured to the sky. She had never heard of a constellation called 'the Oak'. Was he talking about _Vir Tanadhal_?

"Look over there, just above the treeline. They call it 'the White Wolf'. See the bright one and draw a line out behind it… That's the eye, and the tail."

Sigrun laughed. "How am I supposed to tell? I've never seen a wolf!"

Velanna groaned, dragging herself away from her bedroll. She couldn't stand to listen to this anymore.

"It's not just _any _wolf," she grumbled, "It's Fen'Harel."

Nathaniel looked up in surprise at her approach, his eyes sliding down and quickly back up to avoid the half-clothed sight of her. She sat on Sigrun's other side, wrapping her arms around her knees and pulling them to her chest, to spare them both what she was sure was an unpleasantly bony sight.

"Fenna-what?" Sigrun asked, gleefully settling in for a story.

"Fen'Harel," Velanna said. "The Trickster. The Dread Wolf. Betrayer of the Creators. See how he faces away from the moon?" It had grown rounder since they had been underground, its light stronger. "He comes out at night to escape the sun, but even its reflection holds enough power to drive him away."

She could see Sigrun trying to make sense of the unfamiliar concepts. Velanna sighed and told the tale she had been told herself countless times, of the war between the Creators and the Forgotten Ones, and how the Dread Wolf had tricked them all and locked them away in their prisons. How, when the humans arrived, with war and disease and short lifespans, the elves, without the Creators to protect them, quickened and began to die as the humans did.

Nathaniel, who had previously been listening quietly, interrupted to say, "You believe that your ancestors used to be immortal." It wasn't a question, his affect flat and already challenging. Velanna bristled.

"I don't 'believe' it," she said. "It's true."

"How do you know?"

Velanna shut her eyes wearily. "Why would the elders lie?"

Nathaniel's eyebrows rose a fraction. "Why indeed?"

Velanna wanted to reach over Sigrun's head and choke him. But she was tired, and it was too nice a night to let it be spoiled by some contrarian shemlen fool. She listened for a while to Sigrun chattering about how Falon'Din's owl looked to her like a curried nug hand-pie she'd had once, then bid them a brusque good night.

She woke the next morning with fifteen rebuttals on the tip of her tongue.

She dressed in her battle-torn armor and packed her travel gear with the subtlety of a charging boar, arguing with a fictional Nathaniel in her head as she planned what she might say. How the elders' knowledge had been carried since the fall of the Tevinter Imperium, the same as the humans' precious Chant. How it was the only history they had left, since the Imperium had wrecked it all, before the followers of Andraste had abandoned their icon's legacy and destroyed the rest. How it was rare, but entirely possible, even now, to find the places the ancient elves had gone to their eternal sleep in, buried in elven ruins humans dared not enter for fear of the guardian beasts. _I could show you, _she said to him in her mind, while his imaginary self looked appropriately cowed, _but the Varterral might kill you before you could take a step inside._

What came out, after she had spent an hour on the road looking at him, getting angry all over again, and trying to work up the nerve to say so, was, "So you don't believe the elves were immortal."

Nathaniel, who had been looking at her as well, likely wondering why she looked on the verge of apoplexy before he'd even spoken that morning, frowned. "When did I say that?"

Did he forget, or was he just being dense? "You asked me if I believed that my ancestors were once immortal."

"And where in that question was it implied that I believed otherwise?"

Velanna's arguments sputtered and died in her throat. Here she had been ready for one conversation, prepared all the variables, and now he was taking them down a completely separate path. "Then you _do _believe the elves were immortal."

Nathaniel glanced at her, then away, his face betraying nothing. "I didn't say that either."

She was going to strangle him. She was going to drop her pack and her staff and just wrap her hands around his throat and squeeze. "You…" She was seething. She couldn't _think _around him. Why was he _like _this? "...are… _exasperating!"_

Velanna quickened her pace enough that she would not have to see his face any longer. Her thoughts were loud and angry, rattling around in her head like a stone in a jug and giving her a headache. It took her a while to notice the Commander was humming something under her breath. It almost startled Velanna when her head snapped up and the humming ceased.

"Uthenera!" Tabris exclaimed. Velanna felt that she had missed a step somewhere.

"_Pardon?_"

"Uthenera, that's… That's what it was called right? The long sleep? I haven't thought about it in a while," said Tabris, who fell back a pace or two to match Velanna. She began to hum again, mumbling a word here and there as she could remember them in her rough voice. "_Hahren na_… _ba ba-da-dum ba dah_…"

Velanna could hardly believe her ears. She didn't think the flat-ears had any knowledge at all of such things. Perhaps the words had been passed down among the city folk as well… Of course, it seemed just as likely not, as Tabris could only remember one out of every five.

"We traveled to an elven ruin during the Blight," the Commander said, giving up on the song. "Though there was evidence they coexisted with the humans of the time. There was a burial chamber there… Angry spirits had claimed the place, it was the site of some ancient battle. But that was where I first heard of it, and a Dalish storyteller explained the history to me. The elves who never aged, but grew weary of life... It was a human bard who taught me the song, though."

Now, this Velanna could not tolerate. "Impossible."

Tabris, dreadfully, showed no sign that she was teasing. "She told me she learned it from an elven servant when she was a child in Orlais. Unfortunately I don't have a scrap of her musical talent."

"So, _is _it true, then?" Nathaniel interjected. Velanna glared back, but Tabris merely turned to him and raised her eyebrows.

"What did you think 'shemlen' meant?"

He frowned. Apparently he had never considered it. "I— well, I assumed it was rude."

"It means_ 'quick children'_," Velanna said. "For the curse of your short lives, which you saw fit to inflict on us."

Anders let out a sharp laugh. "And here I thought you were calling us something profane like... 'bastard' or 'arsehole'."

"_'Human'_ can be plenty profane all on its own," Tabris said. "But if it comforts you, I can start calling you an asshole instead."

Anders flashed a sarcastic smile at her while Tabris pointedly ignored it.

Velanna watched her for a while, her thoughts racing. She had visited a real elven burial chamber… Velanna had heard of such things, of course, and in the clan's travels they had encountered what few remnants of their ancestors remained to be found, but she had never had the opportunity to witness an ancient elven tomb that remained intact. After a while, Tabris, seeming to sense Velanna's eyes on her, turned and said, "Did you ever meet Keeper Zathrian?"

There was a grim thought. "Yes," Velanna said. "A few years past. Arlathvhen is one of the few times the different clans cross paths." Tabris looked at her questioningly. This sort of ignorance from a flat-ear Velanna was accustomed to. "Every ten years, the clans convene in a location chosen at the previous meeting. Arlathvhen is the meeting."

"Did you hear of his passing?" Tabris seemed reticent to speak, as if the news of his death might hurt Velanna. She needn't have troubled herself. How irritating, to be spoken to so gently of a man who had meant little to her, and who had been foolish enough to be destroyed by his own hubris.

"Yes, I'm afraid the story has become infamous. Almost as infamous as his successor." Ilshae had very few kind words to spare for the jumped-up flat-eared girl who now called herself Keeper Lanaya. Opinions were divided among the clan, and while Velanna had to admit she didn't think much of the ability of an outsider taking a position of leadership, she was almost more irritated that Lanaya had managed it despite being younger than Velanna by several years. If Ilshae had not cast her out, she still couldn't have expected to succeed her at least until she had cleared her third decade.

"Zathrian's final resting place is in the tomb I spoke of. His clan seemed to think it fitting."

Velanna scoffed. "Fitting that a prideful fool should rest among the honored dead?"

"He _was _prideful," Tabris said. "He realized it in the end, and chose to repair what he could, though it cost him his life."

"If you mean to say," Velanna said, her ears burning, "that I ought to look to him as an example…"

"I think you're already doing the work," Tabris said. "You made a choice that would benefit other people more than it benefits you. Every day you stay, you make it again." She smiled faintly, a little tug at the corner of her lip. Yes, Velanna remembered their conversation about choice very clearly. "All I mean to say is that if we ever find ourselves in the Brecilian forest, and you want to… pay your respects? I would be honored to escort you."

She didn't know how to feel. The opportunity was impossible to ignore. She would have given nearly anything to have been there when the ruin was uncovered, to have delved into its secrets alongside the Commander, to have been privileged enough to experience that taste of her history firsthand.

On the other hand, a small, ugly, loud little part of her knew she didn't deserve it. That while Tabris had spoken of Zathrian to give her hope for redemption, all she saw there was the deserved conclusion of a quest for vengeance: death. Tabris did not know the extent of her crime. Zathrian had sacrificed the lives he had been entrusted with, and so had Velanna. Neither of them deserved any honor for that.

She glanced at Sigrun. Maybe the truth became easier to swallow if you made jokes about it, but Velanna hadn't the knack for it.

Vigil's Keep came into view quite near the end of their second day on the road, an untidy sprawl of wood and stone that was beginning to become familiar to her. She could see that the stonemasons had been at work reconstructing the main walls surrounding the compound. As they drew close to the main gate, however, it became clear that something was amiss. A crowd had amassed around the gates, which had been shut against all travelers, and the closer they walked, the louder the sounds of angry shouting became. Some in the crowd held swords, others cudgels, though none appeared to be soldiers, and soon Velanna realized that every last one of them was a human.

From atop the guard towers, soldiers had crossbows trained on the rabble. Squinting, she could see Garevel, the Captain of the Guard, shouting down at them.

"Calm yourselves, or we _will _fire upon you! The Warden-Commander is in the field protecting you lot as we speak!"

"If that knife-eared bitch won't do her job proper, get someone who will," someone in the crowd bellowed.

Velanna was already drawing mana to her fingertips. The Commander's firm grip on her wrist stopped her, though her eyes were fixed on the crowd.

Garevel spotted them at last and froze, hoping not to draw the attention of the rioters, but it was too late for that. Tabris put on her hardest expression and strode with purpose right towards them. Velanna kept her grip tight on her staff.

"There she is," came the cry, and, "The Warden!" The noise of their protests grew to a raucous din.

"For what reason do you harass our soldiers?" The Commander's voice rose above the crowd, a firm bark that startled the humans despite their anger.

"Get the Wardens out of the Vigil," shouted a red-faced man clutching a battered sword and shield.

"No more foreign powers on Fereldan soil! We suffered enough under the Orlesians, and if the Wardens think their putting some cast-off from an alienage in charge will distract us from the truth, they're fooling themselves!" If she weren't sneering so, Velanna might have thought that was her attempt to sound reasonable.

"She's more than a cast-off, she's a criminal! The Wardens don't care who they recruit as long as they're killers! She's a murderer!"

_Murderer_, they began to chant, _murderer, murderer_. Next to her, she saw something in the Commander's stance change.

"Please, listen," came another voice, and Velanna turned in shock to see that Nathaniel had stepped to the front, putting himself between Tabris and the mob. "The Commander is as Fereldan as you or I, and she has put her life on the line in your defense more times than any of us could count!"

The mood of the crowd shifted noticeably when someone among them looked at Nathaniel with recognition. He grit his teeth.

"He looks like—"

"I thought they executed—"

"Isn't that—"

"Yes, I am Arl Howe's firstborn son," Nathaniel said. "You knew my father as a tyrant and a traitor to the crown. They—" The admission seemed to pain him. "They called him the _Butcher of Denerim_. Would you really have preferred _his _rule to that of the Hero of Ferelden?"

Some of the rioters quieted, their faces drawn in confusion, while others were further incensed.

"You want to talk about butchery, talk about what happened to Vaughan Kendells! Spit on your disgrace of a father, you motherless turncoat, I still remember _him._" The man in the forefront of the mob stepped toward Nathaniel, shield in front, taunting him, trying to force him to take a step back. Nathaniel looked as though he might strike the man.

"_Vaughan Kendells?_ Rendon Howe took the arling of Denerim by force—"

"Aye, took it after the elves were done with it," the man spat. "My brother lives in Denerim. He was there. He remembers the purge. Said a gang of elves rampaged through, killed the Arl's son and half his men. That's what happens when you arm a knife-ear. That's what'll happen if our _blessed Arlessa_ gets her way. And the Wardens, they like that just fine. After all, she's one of them who—"

Tabris shoved her way between him and Nathaniel, sending them both in opposite directions. Before he could react, she had grabbed him by the hair and drawn his head down with a sharp yank, bashing his jaw into the edge of his own wooden shield. When he recoiled, blood gushed from his mouth. She lifted her boot and kicked the shield, sending him sprawling to the ground. The crowd parted around him, leaping backwards to let him fall. Tabris drew her blades, scanning the crowd with eyes narrowed and full of disgust.

"You will all leave. Now."

The man on the ground groaned, trying to push his way up. Tabris stepped on his shield, pressing down, letting him yowl through the pain. The crowd had gone nearly silent, paralyzed in shock.

"_Now_, before I change my mind! Human heads roll as easily as darkspawn!"

A crossbow bolt from the guard tower whistled through the air, landing harmlessly, a foot away from one of the mob. He yelped, and the crowd reacted nearly as one, scattering to all sides. The Commander lifted her boot, stepping away from the man who clutched his belly and moaned in the dirt.

"Happy to let elves suffer and die for you," Tabris growled, watching him try to right himself in disgust. "Less happy when they live through it. Fucking coward. Run home." She spat on the ground by his feet. "Think whatever you like about me, but I'm not going anywhere." Without another word, she signaled the guard to open the gate, which began to rise with a decisive clanking of its chains, and stepped over him, marching into the courtyard and leaving him in the road.

Velanna glared down at him as they passed. She had rarely seen the Commander so merciless outside of outright battle, though in Velanna's opinion, it had been a mercy to let the man keep his life. If he tried to retaliate, retribution would be swift, but why allow him the chance?

Nathaniel, too, warranted a second look, though his back was to her now, his shoulders drawn and tense. To publicly denounce his own father in such a way… His following Tabris was one thing. A bold proclamation of his loyalty was something else entirely.

"Commander, I—" Captain Garevel came tearing around the corner, having descended from the guard tower. Seneschal Varel was barrelling down the path leading away from the castle as well. "I don't know how you managed that. Do you want that man taken into custody?"

The Commander's face was lined and weary. "Let him run. If he comes back looking for a fight, he's got a death wish."

"If you're certain," Garevel said, though he did not look convinced.

"Thank the Maker you've arrived," said Varel, looking harried. "Before this mess began, some nobles were awaiting an audience with you."

The Commander's eyes slid shut. Somehow she aged a year in a moment. "Of course they were."

"Shall I inform them that you've arrived?" He looked across the haggard group, lingering on the shortest of them, in her Legionnaire armor. Sigrun grinned up at him pleasantly.

"I don't suppose they'd wait a day?" Varel looked on the verge of protesting before Tabris amended, "Yes, I'll see them right away, and then I have _more important business_. For at least a day. Maybe a week."

"A clear docket, as you say. I will... do my best," Varel said, bowing briskly. "Let me escort you to the throne room."

"Welcome to Vigil's Keep, girl," said Oghren, clapping Sigrun on the back. She was taking in the sights of the courtyard curiously, watching the human guards pass by, muttering about the disturbance.

"Is it always this… exciting?"

"No, the Commander's just so _charming_, she brings it out in people," said Anders.

"Commander," Nathaniel said, touching the Commander's shoulder with the caution of a hunter approaching a wounded predator. She looked up at him, face ashen.

"Later," Tabris said. "I promise you, we will talk later, but… not here." She wiped a gloved hand over her face. "Sigrun, come inside and let the others show you around for now. We'll handle the rest when I'm finished."

It wasn't that Velanna didn't care to find out what exactly had just transpired, but she was wearier than she'd been in years. She was desperate to just... soak her tired bones in a tub for the rest of the evening, digesting the day, the week, the _month _she'd had, and maybe fall asleep there as well. Unfortunately, the first step towards that end would be relieving herself of her gear and finding a change of clothes, so into the Keep she trudged alongside the others. To Velanna's shame, she was actually glad to be back. She hated human castles, felt closed in and out of place and lost, but after being trapped in a crumbling maze of an underground dwarven city for so long, it was a welcome respite that promised hot food and the relative safety of a room with a locked door.

The concept of safety became more relative by the moment when a man dropped from the ceiling.

He was hanging from his feet from one of the braziers in the hall, upside-down, his head a meter above eye level with the Commander. He was dressed in leather, all dark greens and blacks, and his hood drew forward in a birdlike slope. The Commander jolted back an inch, her hand instinctively going for her sheathed weapons, but she froze in place before she, or Seneschal Varel, who looked on the verge of a heart attack, could strike. The man dangling from the ceiling grinned, lifting a finger to his mouth to shush them.

"So glad you could come to the party, my dear!" the man said, under his breath but with jovial charm. Velanna could not immediately place his accent. Looking more closely, she could see that he was an elf with curving black tattoos framing his face, limited in design but very much like the Commander's poor imitation vallaslin. The Commander's face broke open in a startled smile.

"_Zevran?_"


End file.
